


loss

by TAle_xistime



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: (if you call it elizared ig), Action, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - The Blacklist (TV) Fusion, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Elizared - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Freeform, Heavy Angst, Hurt Raymond Reddington, Lizzington - Freeform, Lizzington-Freeform, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Protective Raymond Reddington, Romance, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27754270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAle_xistime/pseuds/TAle_xistime
Summary: Reddington goes and gets himself kidnapped and shot because that's Red for ya. Red and Liz established romance. Things aren't looking so good but then its all ok. The angst and drama is strong with this one y'all. Lizzington.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 20
Kudos: 122





	1. loss-Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time attempting to post a work of mine so here we goes. This is set in an AU that basically has Red not knowing Liz as a child. I think most of my works will be set in this AU. This particular work is set after their time on the run by about 7 months as stated in the text. This is an established AU Lizzington. I plan on posting info about this AU I have been toying with for a while so you guys can understand the AU my works are probably going to be set in. Be looking for that if you want some clarification. (Sorry I didn't post that whole shebang first) If you read this please leave kudos or comments. Thank you all so much for reading this. (Lol if anyone actually finds this heh) And here we go.

Elizabeth almost forgot to shut off her car as she leaped out of it. She quickly did a double check on her gun and started running the two blocks to the empty brick factory, desperate to see his face, to swim in his eyes, to have his arms wrapped around her once again. 

She was selfish.

She knew that. He was the one that was taken. He was the one in need of comfort. And Liz would gladly give him all the comfort and love possible.

But deep inside her gut, she needed him to hold her. To comfort her after the traumatic ordeal of losing him.

For a week he had been gone. It had taken forever to convince the team that they needed to track Red’s chip. That it wasn’t just an impromptu vacation. Lizzie knew better than that. They had been dating for 3 months. He wasn't just going to leave her and Dembe behind. Dembe could feel it too. That something was amiss. Red had disappeared from his apartment late one night, when Dembe had gone home to see Isabella in Dulles. Close to his Bethesda flat. She knew something was wrong. And after convincing Aram to go behind Cooper’s back to track his chip, her worst fears were confirmed. She had wasted no time, telling Ressler to update the team and follow her out to the abandoned building. 

Her phone vibrated gently in her pocket, and she knew better than to pick it up. It was without a doubt Cooper telling her to wait for backup from the team and Reds men before storming in. But she couldn’t wait any longer. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Liz approached the building and gave it a once over, tying together the blueprint Aram sent her with seeing it in real life. She approached slower now, ducking below windows and staying out of the way of any view points.

She noticed no men were stationed, a red flag, but she waved it off. She had guessed the team was fifteen minutes behind her, so she had a choice. Go busting into the abandoned factory, quite possibly killing Red and Liz, or scope things out, and wait for the team. She chose the latter, telling herself that unless she was given reason to engage, such as Red was in immediate danger, she would stay put.

(In the back of her mind, she wasn’t sure that would work out so well. She was impatient.)

She looked around for security cameras, or any line of sight that could give her away, and accordingly chose the best spot to sit. Once she was confident she wouldn’t get shot from some unseen window with her back turned, she slowly rose up and peered up into the window above her, praying to see him, safe, unharmed. She scanned the room until she saw a figure about his height lying prone on the floor.

Raymond. 

His back was to her window. He wasn’t moving. Her throat constricted and she gasped, fear making its way to her face. Was he-  
She saw an arm move. She exhaled a breath she wasn’t aware was being held. It came out sharply, and relief washed over her. He was at the very least alive. But if she didn’t do something, he might not be for much longer.

He was lying in a pool of blood. 

She watched as he rolled off of his side and onto his back, his beautiful emerald eyes looking up to the ceiling. He landed with a grimace of pain. She saw the handcuffs linked onto his wrists behind his back, and the corresponding pole they were attached to. He had a black eye, and dried blood streamed down his nose and face. One of his arms was twisted in a strange angle that made Liz feel nauseous.

He was still wearing his black framed reading glasses, the ones Lizzie adored. He had on a simple navy blue long sleeved sweater and some denim jeans. This was her Red. The Red was never seen by anyone but her when they watched Netflix together and cuddled. The Red that held her tight as she fell asleep in his safe arms while he read his favorite books.

Old man books as she liked to call them. An inside joke for his love of classic literature.

It had only been a week ago that the same sweater that was on him now, crusted with his blood, had been on the floor of her apartment, discarded thoughtlessly as he pinned her onto the bed. 

She watched with horror as his pale face rolled to the side as he lost consciousness. She didn’t know what was wrong with him but she didn’t want to wait to find out.

She scanned the rest of what she could see of the building and saw no one. She couldn’t wait any longer for the task force. She crept slowly to the door and jiggled the handle. The door was unlocked, and it swung open. She ran to Red and knelt at his side. 

“Raymond! Ray wake up! Please wake up,” She gasped, shaking his shoulders. She looked him over, grateful to see the source of all this blood isn’t a gunshot, but many superficial cuts. She took out her small pocket knife and started to flip him over so she could pick his handcuffs’ lock. His eyes opened groggily and as he focused in on her, his face contorted with horror. 

“Elizabeth you need to leave.” He whispered through gritted teeth, urgency and fear more evident in his voice than she had ever heard. She was confounded.

“Raymond it's ok I’m here to-” She was cut off by the sound of a door locking behind her, and footsteps approaching rapidly. 

Before she had time to turn around two large men grabbed her and drug her off Raymond. They took her gun and kicked it to the woman who had locked the door. She knelt down graciously and picked it up, examining it with rigor.   
Elizabeth had seen this woman before. 

The day before Red had disappeared. Her picture was in the files Red had gone through with Liz after finishing up a case. She remembered Red briefly explaining that the picture belonged to Isabella Trenton. She was the husband of their newest Blacklister. Jeremey Trenton. A mob boss weapons dealer that had flipped on Red after selling him weapons for 7 years. And all just for the prospect of more money from one of Red’s competitors. So Red had the FBI track him down. Red got Jeremeys head in a bag, and the FBI got a huge cache of weapons, and a list of new criminals to chase and where to find them.

Everything made sense now. 

This was revenge.

A horrifying thought came to Liz, the ease of finding Red’s tracking chip, the lack of guards outside, the unlocked door, the horror on Ray’s face, Liz was the revenge.

Isabella Trentons love had been killed, so now Raymond Reddington's love would be given the same treatment. They knew. 

Maybe they had bought into the rumors that circulated when Red had gone on the run with Liz, that they were the next Bonnie and Clyde. When they were actually on the run, the rumors had been false. But now, 7 months later, after she left Tom for good and he had driven off on his boat to who cares where, they were right. But Liz had doubted that all of this was just based off of a hunch or some year old rumor. She didn’t think that Isabella would base such an intricate plan off of speculation alone.

No, Isabella must have had seen Liz and Red together when they thought they were alone. Liz looked up horrified to just see Raymond lying there, helpless. She knows the likelihood that he is the one that is going to be the one to get killed is low, at least for the moment, but she is worried about the cuts all over him, and him losing consciousness again. 

“Isabella!” Red's voice boomed in the room. Instantaneously commanding it.

“Do not touch her! You kill her and I will kill you! Do you understand me?!? Do not touch her!” It was a command. Raymond was roaring now, bellowing, and yanking against his chains, fighting with all his strength. He was more angry than she had ever seen him. He was usually cold and calculating, not bothering to stoop to such an idiotic emotion as anger. 

But she could see the hatred in his eyes. A green fire of passion and determination she rarely saw. It was much darker now, and hoter, than she had previously seen. She hadn’t ever seen anyone get this angry, let alone her calm, cool, and collected Red. But she had a feeling that he was hating more than Isabella Trenton. 

Was he blaming himself for all this? 

They had been so careful, he had made sure no one had known the status of who she was to him. Not even anyone at the post office knew. Surely he knew this wasn’t his fault, but she knew him better than that. 

One of Raymonds only well disguised weaknesses, was how much he hated and blamed himself. She had tried to talk sense into him, but he was seemingly desperate to find something to use to hate himself. He felt he deserved the worst, and still had a hard time understanding that Lizzie loved him. He had said at least once a week how she deserves better than him. An old man who only brought her pain and misery. It wasn’t true. 

She had spent the last few months ingraining it into him that not everything was his fault, and that he deserved Liz’s love more than he could ever know. 

It seemed like a strangely perfect match. A psychologist with a damaged man. As he had started to take down his walls for Liz, she had learned the Christmas Eve story, and how much guilt he carried for the killing of his wife and daughter. And how it had caused him to seemingly snap, from the up and coming Naval Informant, to the FBI’s most wanted man.

Elizabeth was yanked out of her thoughts as she was hoisted up, and strapped to a chain link fence. She felt a poke at the kink in her arm, and was surprised to see a translucent fluid was being injected into her. 

She looked over at Raymond across the room, curled slightly on his side staring up at her with a wild expression she had only seen before on a caged animal. His eye was twitching like it always did when he was upset, and he looked so distraught and torn apart, Elizabeth physically ached.

She noticed something curious however. Amongst the wreck of anxiety and fear that was his body, his gorgeous eyes were calm. Locked with hers, never looking away. 

He was reassuring her. Telling her that everything would be fine. She didn’t see how that was possible.  
Until she noticed his hands working quickly and smoothly behind him. Her pocket knife. He had hid her pocket knife. And now he was using it to break out of his handcuffs.

He saw her eyes light with understanding and gave a small and calming smile. As if he was saying,   
“It will be fine Lizzie. You will be fine.”

And she felt relief. They would walk out fine as they always did, and make up for lost time tonight. Even as she felt the drugs seeping into her system she felt relief.

How ironic that would be, when she would remember that moment later, and it would make her sob uncontrollably, curled into a ball, clutching one of his dress shirts and gasping in his scent desperately. Crying out his name. The complete opposite of relief. A hell, that was just on the other side of this day.


	2. loss:chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and Red's private thoughts. Oh! And a life or death situation gone wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's important to note that in this AU Red did not know Lizzie as a child. He is real Red. And Elizabeth's father is not Raymond Reddington. No relation between them or anything, they did not know each other until he turned himself in. Bloody X-mas story happens and it was the Cabal breaking into Red's home to steal info to ignite the war that killed his family. The Cabal make it look like Red's family is still alive and was just placed into witness protection. No one believes Red that they were killed. He is then framed for leaking the info, and is hunted for being a traitor. Red snaps. He is done. He hates the government and America for not believing him after his family was killed and after he served the country for so long. He makes it his life's mission to avenge his family and take down the Cabal. So he rolls with the whole criminal thing and it suites him well. The Cabal has been collecting info for years and sitting on all their info to wait for the perfect moment to wreck havoc on the world. Red has been building his empire and waiting to dismantle the Cabal. He finally gets to a place where he is ready to come at the Cabal and so when he finds an Operative in a deep cover info Op, under the name Tom Keen, using his fake wife Elizabeth Keen to extract info from the pentagon, (lizzie is much higher clearance in this AU and has tons of important contacts at the Pentagon and lots of sensitive info) Red decides to make his move and turn himself into the FBI, using a quickly compiled list to get the Gov. on his side so he can use all their recourses to dismantle the Cabal from the inside. He only speaks with Elizabeth Keen. The list is just a means to an end, he occasionally throws in a Cabal member when he gets enough info on them to have the Feds do his bidding. He gets to Tom Keen, blows his cover with Liz so he has no where to go, and then tortures him for info on who the main leaders for the Cabal are. (all without letting Lizzie or the task force know his alternate agenda with the Cabal.) Once he has the Cabal where he wants them and he knows who the main guys are that have all the sensitive war starting info he moves in, and kills all Cabal leaders, burns all info, and plans to leave and go on the run from the Feds again now that his mission is complete. But something happens to make him want to stay, meeting Lizzie and realizing he loves her. So he stays and continues to work with the task force.(sorry this was so long but I had explain. Let me know if you have any questions guys sorry that was long and confusing don't run away!!) Love ya guys thank you for putting up with meeeeee.

Raymond worked furiously with the cuffs, desperate to get himself free. To get Elizabeth free. She's all that matters. He kept his composure, for her sake. She needed to believe he had things handled. He did on some level as well. 

He had gotten himself kidnapped by a revenge sick woman.

And now Lizzie had been put in danger. Because he was selfish. He couldn’t refuse being with her. Waiting for so long with his unrequited love in tow had made him edger. Too edger for his own good. For her own good. He knew the chances were that one day he would have to leave her. He wouldn’t put her in danger. If he did leave, if things were still simple, he would watch from a safe distance. But they weren’t that simple anymore. She was never supposed to love him back. That was supposed to be his little secret. It put a target on her back. Visible from California to Japan. After he had taken down the cabal, his main mission in life, it left him without an anchor anymore. He had no more purpose. But then as he deciphered his feelings for Lizzie his anchor lodged itself in D.C. He knew he should just leave. Go on with his original plan. Suddenly disappear from D.C. Be on the run from the FBI once again. But he fooled himself. He told himself as long as he hid his feelings and she went on ignoring him, it would be fine to stay. That he could indulge himself in her world. Take a small step into the light. Continue to help the world with the Blacklist, which was just originally a means to an end. He hadn’t anticipated that he would actually become passionate about that list, for his passion had long been revenge for his family’s death.

He had told himself he could stay for his own selfish desires. He was already attached. But he knew she wasn’t. She wasn’t supposed to ever get to that point. Not in his wildest dreams. That was too dangerous for her. He knew that he could leave if she was in danger having only his emotions to deal with. It would be hard, and he would probably go on a mass killing spree again, as you do, but he could do it. For her. Knowing she didn’t care made it easier for him to stomach. To move on if needs be. But now that she was as attached to him as he was to her? It would be almost impossible to leave. She had made it clear she wouldn’t let him go. Guessing the late night origin of his anxieties as she so often did. She could play him like the cheap kazoo he was. She was his blind spot. In every possible meaning of the word. And now that he had found a home? He didn’t want to go. It was so cruel. After uprooting everything and making it impossible for him to settle down, now that the storm that he had been braving for three decades finally stopped raging around him, threatening to enclose him from all sides, he wanted nothing more than to be normal. To not be a fugitive. A life he normally loved and would not trade for the world, he would trade for a singular woman in an infuriating city, the capital no less, of the country he hated most. The country whose leaders had once let his family's slaughter go unnoticed. In a million years he could have never seen himself in this position again. It was never in the cards for him. So, it was easier to just ignore the elephant in the room of their relationship. Which was what he had been doing these past months as he got to know her better than he ever imagined was possible. He had a reason to stay. And that was the biggest danger. The only hole in his armor.

Love made him utterly powerless as it so often had the habit of doing.

Besides, she deserved so much better. Better than him, a man 23 years older than her. An international criminal, that had so far, only brought her misery and pain. 

He had tried to stop himself from loving her, in order to keep her safe. In order to keep his walls up, to not let her break his defences down. The wall was there for both their protection. Her against his world, and him against a weakness. His kryptonite. But it was a futile effort. She was a psychologist after all. She tore down his defenses with such ease, now that he was her only focus. And it felt wonderful. To open up, to be given attention, to start to be fixed. She fixed him. She completed him. She had tremendously helped him. He was feeling emotionally better than he had in decades. He wondered how he had lived for so long, with all the pain and guilt he carried around. He was the ultimate example of baggage. Trauma from his past love being killed along with his child, a traitor to his country, a murderer, a thief, a rap sheet 20 miles long. Quite literally. But when she had said that she loved him, flaws and all, he had only fallen deeper in love with her. But as wonderful as it felt to have his love reciprocated, he found it hard to believe.

Even when she had made it her mission to show him how deeply she really cared. He couldn’t accept it. He didn’t want her to love him, for fear of hurting her. For fear of hurting himself if he had to go. How could someone so pure, love someone so evil? 

And now he had brought her physical pain again. Putting her in harm's way. Even after being so careful, to make sure that not a soul knew, weren’t made aware that she was any part of his life, hiding their relationship from the task force.

He knew that if Elizabeth was harmed in any way, it would be his fault. Both for his carelessness in protecting her from his world, and his inattention the night he was taken, his senses dulled by exhaustion. He wasn’t careful enough, not thinking to have his gun ready as he went into that alleyway to his car.

He couldn’t sleep that night, the night he had been taken. He had stayed up and read the paper, and seen an ad for a 24 hour sweets shop.

He started to crave something sweet, and figured he might as well go to the shop, as he had nothing better to do. He had sent Dembe home, telling him to go see Isabella and the baby and take the weekend off. He had planned to spend it with Elizabeth, just hanging around. Liz had wanted to spend the afternoon by herself, so she could catch up on paperwork from their previous Blacklister, Jeremy Trenton. 

A weapons dealer of Red’s that had flipped on him, and he had ended up killing just a few days previously. 

His first instinct whenever he couldn’t sleep was to call Lizzie, to hear her beautiful voice. But looking at the time, 3:24 in the morning, he stopped himself, not wanting to wake her. 

So he resigned to going on a drive by himself and getting a cookie sundae. 

He had gotten his cookie sundae and was walking back out to his car, when he was jumped by three grown men, unable to get to his gun in time, he was shoved into a van. 

He remembered feeling a sharp, cracking, pulsating pain on the back of his head, then everything went black. He had woken up, chained to a pole with handcuffs behind his back. He had waited there, trying to figure out why he was being kept.

No one had talked to him the entire time he was kept, he only got his occasional beating. 

They were waiting for something. Red couldn’t figure out what. Until it was too late. 

When he saw Isabella Trenton, the widow of the man he had murdered, come out of the shadows, slinking towards with a wild look in her eye, her hair and clothes pristine, he had figured out what they were waiting for.

Or who. 

It was for revenge. Lizzie would be in his crossfire. The only thing he feared. He didn’t have time to figure out how they knew about them. He could only presume it was the rumors that circulated during their time on the run combined possible surveillance. (A thought that made Red fume.)

He had fought against his chains and done everything he could to escape, only resulting in more beatings. He had to escape.

To save Elizabeth. 

He didn’t know if Isabella would kidnap Lizzie, or if she would lure her here to save him. 

He had only found out too late that it was the latter. 

Lizzie didn’t even have the chance to leave him. And now she was helpless, strapped up and being pumped with some kind of torture drug. She was going to be killed. And it was Raymonds fault. 

For the second time in his life, the love of his life would be killed. On his account. But he just wasn’t going to lay down and let her die. If Elizabeth was going to be killed, he would die. 

It didn’t matter how. By Isabella's hand or else. He couldn’t live without Liz. He had seen this movie before, and couldn’t live through a second round. 

Because Liz was his life. He couldn’t go through with having someone he loved die again. Not after what happened that Christmas Eve. He couldn’t live through that again.

He could see the drugs working their way through her, it had only taken two minutes before he saw her start trembling and grimacing in pain. She flinched violently, jerking around and making painful gulping noises. Isabella stood watching and waiting in the shadows. Cruelty painted on her face, When he got his hands on her-

The man next to Isabella sharpened a knife. He had to think logically if he was going to get them out of this. He knew that saying anything in Elizabeth's defense would only steel Isabella's resolve to hurt his Liz. He had to save her, but couldn’t give Trenton any reason to speed up her plan or add more to it. 

So instead he focused on keeping Elizabeth's gaze and continued uncuffing himself. Thank goodness for Elizabeths quick thinking with the knife. It was hard, Elizabeth's small knife was sharp, and hard to keep a hold on. 

He periodically slipped and cut himself, leaving searing pain and more blood behind. 

His attention turned fully Elizabeth as she let out a sharp yelp of pain, panic sweeping him over. He worked faster, more reckless with the knife slicing his wrists. The calm facade of control he kept for Lizzies sake had instantaneously vanished. 

She was in so much pain, all he wanted was to kiss it away, transfer it to him instead. He deserved it. It was all his fault she was here. He wasn’t careful enough. He was selfish, going to her apartment so openly all the time. Not having the strength to leave when he still could.

He put her here. And he might as well be shot himself, if he couldn’t get her out. 

She was running out of time. She screamed out. The pain was becoming more apparent on her face. 

“Hold on Lizzie baby. You're gonna be ok.” he mumbled softly, more to himself, scared that if Isabella heard him, she would move out of the shadows and start. 

Unfortunately he was correct.  
“Well, let's get started shall we? Hello Elizabeth. My name is Isabella. I am sincerely sorry for what I am about to do to you, it’s nothing personal really. Against you that is. Unfortunately for you, your stud of a man here has gone and killed my husband. So, seeing as you are the closest thing Raymond here has for a wife, I am going to kill you.”  
Red felt panic rise in his chest like bile. He was getting closer. He had to keep his hands steady or he would lose all his progress. His eye twitched, and his teeth ground into the inside of his fleshy cheek. 

Elizabeth moaned, a sound of pain and fear. He watched in horror as Isabella took the sharpened knife and stepped towards Elizabeth. His mouth dropped open to scream, to give empty threats, to trade his life for hers. But before he had the chance, the adjacent metal door swug open, and a man ran inside.

He came straight up to Isabella and whispered something in her ear. The man looked panicked. But Isabella seemed to remain calm. Even as her eyes widened and she gave a horrifying smirk. Isabella had snapped. She had a crazy look in her bold brown eyes. Wild, untamed, dangerous, psychopathic. The look Red so often tried to hide from his own face. 

He wouldn’t even try when he got his hands on Isabella. 

It gave him a sweet, twisted, sense of satisfaction when he would let that look play across his face, terrifying people before he took their lives. It also scared him. It reminded him of how far gone he truly was. The darkness he kept caged, licking at his core. Eroding him from the inside. He and Trenton weren’t so different, anyhow. Caged sociopaths yearning to be set free, one step away from the edge. One heartbeat away from losing it, and going completely non compos mentis. One action away from the point of no return. Here Trenton was. She was there. Raymond had pushed her over the edge. Thrown her off that cliffside. The irony was thick as molasses in December. Here were the consequences for shoving someone off into the deep. That fine line, that only became clear once you hurled yourself over it. And if Trenton completed what her tar filled soul was compelling her to do, Raymond might as well be looking in a mirror. There would be no stopping him. He had been in this very state of mind before. Destruction with no regard, too wounded to care about being taken down in the process. Too maimed not to let the pain slosh over the brim, too full of torment not to let some of the pressure out. A temporary fix, until the demons flooded back with twice the force, twice the pressure on your skull causing you to lose yourself more and more until there was nothing left. Reckless to no abandon almost hoping, praying, for someone to stop you on some level. To kill you. Because then at least the pain would cease. Yes, Raymond had snapped before. He knew for a fact he couldn’t continue to exist if he cracked again. If he had another seismic event comparable to what happened all those years ago. Nothing would. He would make damn sure of it. 

Something had stopped her. Gave her pause. Whatever that man said to her. Something was not going according to plan. Raymond looked out the window to see if he could tell what the monkey wrench was. And as he saw half a dozen black SUVs rolling towards the brick building, he was able to diagnose the problem. 

Trenton had a disease on her hands. 

The Feds were here. Maybe they were good for something after all.

Raymond looked back at Isabella feeling relieved. Taking back every nasty thought he had ever had about the American legal system. (Boy was there a lot.) However, That quickly disappeared. Isabella was walking over to her gun cabinet while the rest of her crew started to clean up shop. They all left, leaving only the three of them. It dawned on Red that Isabella were going to take what she could get. And that was Elizabeth's life. She was ready to surrender. Not caring to die as long as someone went with her. Reckless to no abandon. She was going to take away Raymonds reason for life. He felt his soul splinter. Ready to burst. The only indication of the alliteration in his core was his twitching eye. His tell. He never could completely control it. But he had more important things to work on now. 

“Ok well new plan. The FBI has come here to save you Elizabeth. Unfortunately there will be nothing left of you to save.” Crack. A small shift in the fabric of his being. Trenton turned to Raymond. Swiveling on her heel and flourishing her gun. She waved it about as she spoke. Her brunette hair spilled over her shoulder. 

Click. The pocket knife found a hold. His pulse picked up. He sucked in a ragged breath. Not allowing himself to hope, for the fear of the plummet off the other side. 

“I’m going to kill her as sloppily as I can with the time I have allotted, and you are going to watch. And I am going to leave you here, in your own misery. Then the Feds will take you into custody, and you will never see the light of day again because you are going to be in a supermax prison being tortured for information. Oh, and you will also never see Lizzie again.” She exaggerated Lizzies name, dragging it over her tongue. He bit down on his cheek. Hard. Red tasted the iron spilling into mouth from the sudden violent movement. The movement comforted him. Keeping him from spilling over with rage. A way to express his wrath and store it for later. The fissure in him was elongated, deepened. A massive crevasse. 

Pop. The pocket knife nipped at the lock and one hand was freed. His stomach churned. He felt color fade from his face. He was close. In two ways. Closer to the edge, and closer to his safety net. Lizzie. 

She flipped around again turning to Lizzie. “Honestly you all need to get better pet names for each other. And what is it that you call him? Is it Red? Because that's less creative than Lizzie.”

Clink. Raymonds other bleeding hand was freed. 

Adrenaline coursed through him as he realized what he had to do. He didn’t have the time to feel his pain. 

Isabella raised the gun and without hesitation Raymond sprinted across the room. Ready to tackle Isabella. He knew that the possibility he would be shot himself was high. Startling a deranged woman when she had a loaded gun in her grasp wasn’t a recommended tactic. But he had no time to contemplate any other strategy. And perhaps he was reckless to no abandon as well. If he made enough noise as he was running at Trenton, she would swivel 90 degrees to his direction, and Lizzie wouldn’t be caught in any crossfire. He was forcing Trentons perfectly poised hand. As he ran he didn’t try to hide his footsteps. Hoping that she could hear him as he barreled towards her. If he was lucky, she would turn and not have time to react to him pinning her to the ground. In a perfect world Red would sprint towards her, she would turn, gun lowered in surprise as he tackled her. He would keep her down, pinned to the concrete and he would carry her off. Because in no world would he let the Feds have the first of her. Or the last. She would be his prize now. 

Or that's what he thought would happen. Blinded by a moment of hubris, just as the FBI crashed through the doors. Thinking he was fast enough. Three small movements. That was all it took. The flutter of a finger in rapid succession. It was strange to think about, the taking of a life by the small spasm of a small bit of muscle. How odd. To be conquered by just three, small, movements. To be ruined by only an object smaller than the size of Q-tip.


	3. loss:chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and more angst. Like emotional and physical angst. Just a heads up violence is described kind of a lot in this chapter. Thus the T-Rating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. I extended it to be 6 pages in my Google Doc's so it wasn't so short and it made more sense. Let's talk about Red's scar on his back. Due to the fact that he didn't know her as a child, he was not present for the fire. But I really wanted to keep the scar because it's really unique to his character and I wanted to have a head-canon mentioned later in the book of Lizzie tracing the pattern of the burns on his back to relax herself. Kinda like how she strokes the scar on her wrist when she is nervous. So I found a way to keep it. And have some sad backstory because I may or may not thoroughly enjoy putting Red through emotional trauma. Sorry not sorry heh. I will admit I am really proud of myself for this chapter. So without further adieu here is chapter three of loss. Constructive criticism always welcome in the comments, but don't take it personally if I don't choose to act on it. (I'm kind of lazy like that.)
> 
> Disclaimer: The main 'bones' (if you will) of these characters are not mine. However I have adjusted them slightly because TBL producers broke them and ruined a perfectly good thing. I make no money off of these characters or stories. They are simply meant as entertainment for Lizzington Fans. 
> 
> Love you all so much for reading my little collection late night thoughts regarding our OTP. Thank you so much. Love all your comments.

One, Two, Three.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

He felt as the bullets ripped through his body. Jerking his body backwards with each eruption of metal into his flesh. It was a strange feeling. It felt peculiar to have an outside object intrude on his body. It wasn’t painful per se, to be shot. No, that would come later. He was too drunk on adrenaline to realize he had even been shot, let alone feel any kind of pain. 

Raymond had been shot before. But never like this. He felt himself falling. He didn’t know why. On second he was standing, the next he felt pain radiating through him as he fell to the earth. As he laid on the concrete he tried to sit up, only to feel a warm sensation across his abdomen. He reached his hand down and touched it lightly to his shirt and was surprised when his hand came back sticky and red. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It didn’t register in his brain that he had been shot. Even after he felt the bullets tearing through him. Or maybe he just didn’t want to believe it.

“R-red?” He heard Lizzie whimper, he wanted to come to her, to comfort her. He went to get up again, but as soon as his torso moved off the ground he gasped in pain so extreme his eyes rolled into the back of his head. There was the pain. His body came back the few inches to earth. He couldn’t move without a harsh pain ripping throughout his body. Lizzies beautiful voice was drowned out by a sudden ringing in his ear.

“Raymond? Raymond! Get up red! PLEASE GET UP!” She howled. He could hear her voice rising as she spoke, sopping wet with panic.

He wanted to tell her he was ok, but that would be a lie. His vision was blurring, his breath becoming harder to draw, he was dying. Not soon, he still might have some time. But without some help he would. That strangely didn’t bother him much. He faced death constantly. And made his peace with it long ago. He knew his luck would run out sometime. What did bother him was that Lizzie was here. He was down. And Isabella was still up. He couldn’t protect her now. As that dawned on him he realized his grave mistake, and felt the fear return to his body, taking up the space all his blood that was now on the floor, had left behind.

Isabella just stared at Red, seeming to be disinterested in leaving, or hurting Lizzie. At least that bought the task force more time. She ignored Lizzies bawling. She was eerily calm. She seemed all too interested in watching him, grimacing with pain as he tried to figure out how he could protect Elizabeth, a look of smug satisfaction on her face. She had knelt down and ran her pointer finger through his blood, and rubbed her thumb against her other, painted finger. Examining it, scrutinising his ichor.

Though he had no business doing so, he prayed. He prayed the task force would come quickly. That was the only option he had. He hated himself for putting Lizzie in this position. He hadn’t timed his opposition correctly. And the fact Liz might pay for his misjudgement made him feel a greater pain that any physical pain he currently had to endure. Thankfully, two seconds later when he heard Ressler scream out,  
“FBI! DROP THE GUN!” He knew his prayer, his dying wish, had been answered. The price had been paid. He had bought enough time. He hadn’t just damned her to the same death as he by his misguided ego. 

Isabella's head snapped up and she watched the task force enter the building, still completely calm. Without missing a beat she turned around and pointed the gun at Liz, still determined to inflict as much damage as she could before she was inevitably killed.

Raymond panicked. He gathered up everything he had, to scream out, to roar with all his strength,

“DROP, DONALD, DROP!” His voice came out like shattered glass, cutting and slicing his throat as he forced the words out of his lungs. 

Thankfully Ressler didn’t wait to ask questions. A shot rang out, and Isabella Trenton dropped down with a thud next to Raymond.

The room began to swim around Raymond even more. His outburst caused all his strength to leave him, as quickly as it came. The pleasant warmth in his stomach grew to a searing heat, the adrenaline no longer dousing the fire. It reminded him of another occasion full of extreme pain, being tortured by fire in Russia by a Russian operative called Seaduke. It left a massive scar, third degree burns coating his entire back. Back before he was a fugitive. Back before his wife and daughter were slaughtered in his own home. That was ironically when he met Harold. The young FBI operative he had no clue he would someday work as a CI for. He was kept in that concrete cellar for 10 hellish days. He could still remember the only thing that kept him alive. Not wanting to miss his Adeline's first dance recital. She was five. His precious child. Two years before she was killed. He would hallucinate of them, seeing his wife Danielle and Addie going on a vacation, he would take Addie swimming in the ocean, explain to her that it was her daddy's home away from home. Show her his love for the ocean and why he stayed in the Navy to be near it. The visions kept him strong. Kept him alive. After he never got to show Adeline the ocean, his love for it grew cold. It didn’t matter anymore.

He felt blood rise in his throat, covering where the jagged glass had cut. His taste buds were covered in iron, and he found himself making a disconcerting gurgling noise. He could breathe with all the liquid in his mouth.

He was drowning in his own blood.

He retched, and turned on his side. Mildly disturbed at the sight of so much of his blood outside of his body, he just stared at it for a moment. His blood tasted bitter, leaking around his teeth and overflowing from his swollen, and increasingly frozen lips. It dribbled down his cheek and chin, leaving behind a waxy feeling. He felt it lethargically fall to his collar, and stain one of his only casual sweaters. He kept the shirt only for Lizzies sake. She had got it for him, troubled by his lack of casual clothes. It was comfortable enough, sure. But it was odd to get used to. He suddenly felt guilty. Next week was her turn to do laundry, and she would have a dreadful time getting his blood out of the fabric of the gift she had given him. It was an odd thought, considering that the shirt was technically already ruined without the assistance of the blood, the large holes in it leaving it better suited to be thrown out. 

He trembled uncontrollably, still reeling from falling so hard onto the floor.

“RESSLER! RESSLER! LET ME- HELP! HELP!” Lizzie was shrieking, alarmed at seeing Raymond vomit blood.

Ressler ran by Raymond, splashing in the puddle of his blood, Cooper following close behind. He felt the small red droplets rain back onto his cheek, their temperature growing cold outside of his soma. 

Good. She’s safe. That’s all that matters.

He felt himself relax.

Giving into death. Letting it cradle him in its cold black arms. He was vaguely aware of two men and a woman standing over him. The woman began tearing pieces of his shirt and stuffing it inside his wounds. He grunted harshly at this, the cloth adding more heat to the fire burning inside him.

He moved his hand to try and tear them out, to feel the cool air wash over them. But the woman pushed his hand away.  
“Raymond it’s Samar we need these to stop the bleeding.” She spoke with authority. He gave up, too tired to fight her. He looked over to another figure, a man with a blurry black blob slug over his shoulder. He could only assume it was a gun. The man was white, and stood holding a phone speaking quickly into it. Baz? It had to have been.

He jumped when he felt someone grab his hand. He looked over to see a very blurry and distant Dembe.

He held Raymond's hand close, clutching his hand between Dembe's dark and coarse fingers. Where was Elizabeth? He went to speak again, desperate to know where she went off to. Craving her presence. But also wanting to make sure she was far away. He was answered instead by the sound of Agent Ressler.

“Liz! Wait! Liz you don’t wanna see him like-” Ressler was cut off by Lizzies voice again this time louder, closer.

“Raymond! Red!” He saw a figure stumble to him and linger over him for just a second before collapsing by his side. Stumbling as if they were drunk, or otherwise inebriated. He felt a warm hand touch his face as the figure got back up on their knees and leaned over him. Their piercing blue eyes came into focus. His Lizzie. She had come for him. He felt so relieved, safe in her arms. But at the same time he didn’t want her here, to see him like this. To watch all the graphic detail as he slowly suffered and died. He wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy let alone the love of his life. His thoughts became slow and lethargic, and he had trouble making words form in his blood coated mouth.

“Lizzie I’m tired…” He spoke softly, and began to close his eyes. She grabbed his face smudging the blood flowing from the corner of his mouth. Shaking his head lightly but with urgency, she spoke. Her tears mixing with his blood.

“Don’t close your eyes Red, don’t close your eyes. Keep them open. Look at me Red.” He made the immense effort to open his eyes again, to do anything he could to make her happy. That's all he ever wanted. He failed 90% of the time. This was the least he could do for her. He gave a small smile at her as he coughed again. Wet and thick, lungs struggling to drag air into his mutilated body. He was just so happy to see her face. If he had to die, the last thing he wanted to see was her, the last thing he wanted to think was of her. It seemed to be a pretty decent way to go. She gave him peace. He looked at her as if she was the ocean, and he was desperate to drown. 

“Hi. Hi baby. Just keep your eyes on me ok? I know it hurts but you have to stay awake.” The room fell silent at her words. Trying to absorb what they had just heard. Dembe stepped in.

“We should check the perimeter again and look for medical supplies to help until the ambulance gets here. Elizabeth can watch Raymond.” The task force looked around at one another. Still shell shocked. Dembe led everyone away without another word. Aware that they might want a moment alone. Elizabeth didn’t seem to notice or care that she had just blown their relationships’ cover.

She just smiled sleepily. She seemed to be exhausted all of a sudden. It dawned on Red as he listened to Liz speak that her speech was slowing considerably, and she seemed to be wheezing, having a harder and harder time pulling her breath. There was a small patch of raised, red bumps that were starting to pop up on her neck. Raymond's face tightened with worry. 

He lifted his hands slowly to cup her face. Grunting slightly as he moved his numb arms. He lethargically spoke again, frustrated at the pace of his own voice.

“Lizzie are you-” He was cut off by Elizabeth falling down, collapsing onto Red. He gave a hiss as the pain of her body crashing into him ran through him like an earthquake. His breath quickened.

“Lizzie? Lizzie?” His voice was soft and low, taunt with worry. No response. He needed to check on her. He was supposed to die, not her. She was to die an old woman, tucked comfortably in her bed, going out peacefully. He tried to lift her up, to see her beautiful face, but he was too weak.

He needed help. She needed help.  
He couldn’t yell very loud to the task force that was now across the room, scanning the perimeter making sure that they weren’t in further danger. Little did they know. 

They had left Liz with Raymond, for them to have a moment. A chance to talk before Red surely died. The task force was no longer blind to the exact nature of their relationship. Strange how one little word can change everyone’s perception, tearing off the rose colored glasses they were now so comfortably accustomed to. 

“H-help, Liz, help-” He wheezed it out, his teeth ground together. Gasping, pleading. To someone. Anyone. 

He coughed again. This is what alerted Donald to what was happening in the middle of the room.

“MILHOAN!” Ressler saw her first, laying on top of Raymond. He rushed back to check on his partner. Lizzies shirt was soaking up Raymond's blood, her face buried into his neck. They had laid like this with her what seemed like a million times. But this was all wrong.

He held her close, tears beginning to fall. Silent and cold.

It was foreign. Raymond hadn’t cried for at least 2 decades. He was shocked. Surprised at himself. He didn’t know he could still cry. He ran his hand through her hair, and whispered into her ear. 

“Lizzie, wake up, please Lizzie. Don’t go Lizzie, My Liz-” His voice broke. 

“Reddington! You have to let her go, we need to flip her over!” Donald yelled. Samar rushed over. She took one look at her swollen face and heard her desperate gasps and knew what was wrong. Or hoped she knew what was wrong. Liz didn’t have the time for Samar to second guess herself.

“She’s in anaphylactic shock. Whatever drugs they gave her she's having a reaction to. We need an Epi-Pen. Quickly.” Both Donald and Samar spoke with urgency and determination, no sympathy evident in their even and rough tone.

Red let go of Elizabeth, the hardest thing he ever had to do.

A tear rolled off his cheek as Ressler quickly flipped Liz off of Reds chest, checking her pulse, listening to her breaths. Samar ran off to who knows where. Dembe, Baz, and the task force gathered around both their limp bodies, and Red could feel himself fading.

He couldn’t hear anything the team was saying if it wasn’t above a whisper. He fought against death. He wouldn’t leave her. She had to be ok.

He couldn’t die until she was safe.

Everyone stood around in complete silence as Donald began chest compressions. Red laid flat on his back, completely broken. He couldn’t move, couldn’t see if she was still alive. And if she wasn't, what would be left of his world? The tears came faster. Making him panic at the strangeness of them tugging at his eyes.  
“Donald? Lizzie?” His voice was just above a whisper. No reply. The task force stood around in shock, everyone one of them in tears as they watched in horror.

“ANSWER ME DAMN YOU!” He snapped. Everyone turned and looked at the dead man talking, surprised at his outburst. He coughed up more blood, retching and shuddering. Dembe kneeled down next to him, tears rolling down his face.

Samar came back into view. A blurry yellow rectangle gripped tightly in her hand, turning her knuckles white as she jogged. She ran to Lizzies side, and violently slammed the rectangle into Lizzies leg.


	4. loss:chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final musings of a (maybe) dying man. Jk he doesn't die you all can still get continue to get attached to our favorite bean.

“I found an Epi-pen in one of the Tac vehicle first aid kits.” Samar stated. She kneeled next to Liz, panting from running.

“If she does wake up, the epinephrine will likely make her drowsy.” The silence was charged, everyone holding their breath waiting for Elizabeth to wake up.

Red didn’t know if he would make it long enough to make sure she was ok, to say his goodbyes.

He knew the chances were he was going to die.

He just wanted a few more minutes. He needed to tell Lizzie he loved her one more time. He needed to stay awake for just a little bit longer. His tears fell quicker now, he could no longer make out the silhouette of any people. He could only hear Dembe's voice close to his ear, feeling his panic and anxiety, and trying desperately soothe him.

“Raymond, she will be fine, I will take care of her, I promise, I promise brother. Be calm Ray.” Dembe’s voice was alleviating, every though it was breaking. Dembe always knew what Raymond needed. What he needed now was someone familiar.

Dembe was trying desperately to give Raymond some resolution before he went, to give him peace of mind. So that he could leave. So he could stop fighting, so he wouldn’t be in pain any longer. But he knew Raymond would never let himself give up unless he knew Elizabeth was going to be alright. 

Red knew Dembe and his family would be well taken care of. Dembe would be better off anyway without Red. He set up every contingency possible, so that Dembe and everyone that he loved would have what they needed when he died a long time ago. He felt Dembe’s pain, he couldn’t imagine the pain that Red would go through if he lost Dembe. Their bond was so much deeper than most people could understand.

He was so thankful to Dembe, all the times Dembe stood by his side, even when Raymond could never deserve it. Even when he could never dream of being worthy of Dembe’s presence. He was so devoted, and Red loved Dembe for it. He loved his friend as much as he loved Lizzie, as much as he loved his wife and his daughter. Dembe was his family. The only one that stayed through him throughout all the years, the only one that could save Red from himself. Dembe was Red’s guardian angel. Red would give his life for Dembe without a second thought. After Red died, Dembe was to retire and be with Isabella and Ella. Red was grateful Dembe had a family. Someone to hold on to when Red was gone. He was also grateful Dembe had promised that he would try to stay out of harm's way in the case Red passed. 

He wasn’t worried about Lizzie physically or financially, Dembe would take care of her. Just another thing Red could rely on Dembe for. But he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave everything left unsaid between Lizzie and him. That was after all one of their many talents. Just hoping the other could decipher the meaning behind their words.

Dembe and Red have had many conversations about what was to happen if one of them was to die. He was at peace with Dembe. But what if Lizze didn’t understand how much he loved her-

It was getting harder to draw his breath, the blood began to rise in his throat quicker.

“Dembe, tell her I love her, please Dembe. Tell her I’m sorry, this is my fault-” Dembe stroked his friend's hand lovingly, his tears falling on Red’s blood encrusted body.

Raymond was shaking violently, drawing shaky breaths. Dembe held his hand, keeping it steady, keeping it from shaking. He kissed the back of his bloody hand and took a deep breath, replacing his calm. Raymond needed him to be calm. Dembe had to continue being Raymond rock for just a few moments longer. He didn’t mind. 

Dembe suddenly looked up, moving his gaze from his brother's face. Averting his gaze from Red, and moving it to the other members of Raymond’s found family. And really, Dembe’s family too. Without a word he stood, and Reddington could no longer tell if Dembe was still standing next to him. He heard Donald speak, frozen venom laced in his voice. 

“Tell her yourself Reddington.” Red could tell Donald was not happy finding out about the status of Lizzie and Reds’ relationship. He probably felt betrayed. One of his closest friends in love with the man who still could very well serve the role as Donald's worst enemy. That was fair. Even through everything Red and Ressler had done together, they still weren’t chums by any means. And Ressler rightly so, probably had major issues with Reddington. Mainly he was sociopathic, but Lizzie could probably expand more on that. 

Red felt sudden pressure on his chest as something warm rolled onto him. Relief washed over him, stronger than any pain he felt at the newfound weight on him.

“Liz-” He was cut off by pressure on his mouth, she was kissing him, her hands clamped on his cheeks. Slow but still maintaining a level of urgency. It spoke a thousand words, telling him to hold on, and expressing how much she loved and needed him. He gave a small grunt into her mouth. She pulled away and he could feel her tears on his cheek.

“Don’t leave Red, I-I can’t stay awake, I'm afraid to leave you, but I can’t stay awake. Please stay, don’t leave me.” Her voice was hoarse, and weak. Soft. Lethargic. Full of pain. She was trying so hard to stay awake, but he knew she couldn’t hold out for long.

He couldn’t either.

He could only hope her fatigue was just due to the drugs' side effects and nothing else.

“Lizzie, I love you, you have to know that and I’m sorry I-”  
“I know Red-” She choked. “I love you too. And don’t apologize. Please. Red stay.” It was a senseless plea, she must have known that.   
“Sweetheart I’ll try.” He grunted again and more blood spilled over his lips. A notably smaller amount than before. He felt weak, dizzy, clammy, and wished for nothing more than to sleep. He felt deflated, a good percentage of blood having now left his body.

They were strangely calm now, a blanket of tranquility surrounding them, now that everything that needed to be said was out in the open. It was just them in the room, the world a million miles away. He stroked her hair, feeling content. Lizzie gave a small whimper as her eyes started to drift close. She snapped them back open again, only to have them start meandering closed once again. She wouldn’t rest without permission. Even then she would try to fight it, though Red doubted she could. 

So, for the first time in his life, Raymond lied to Elizabeth.

“Rest Lizzie, I will be here when you wake up.” He whispered it in her ear, meaning for it to be soothing, though it was hard to pull off when he gave a small cough in the middle of his sentence. He tried to give her peace, and prayed she wouldn’t hate herself for not being able to stay awake during his end. But he would rather it end this way. She didn’t need to watch as the life drained from his eyes. Not the way he himself watched helplessly 30 years ago. That had never left him. Not being able to do anything as he watched his loved ones die. He still had horrid nightmares whenever the holidays came. 

Well, he used to have nightmares. 

That was why he always traveled for Christmas, he couldn’t stand being in America. He ran from one of his many emotional problems, just like he always did.

But this year he had a reason to at least attempt to control himself. He was actually going to try to stay this year, his first Christmas with Lizzie as a couple, he was going to try and brave his nightmares, and spend Christmas with her. He wondered whether or not he would have succeeded in that. Most likely not. 

He felt her relax in his arms and knew she was out cold. His tears came more frequently. How ironic was it that the first time he had cried in years, decades even, would also be the very last?

He was freezing although sweat clung to his blood crusted skin. Everything numb. He could no longer feel Elizabeths’ hand in his. But he held on tightly. Not letting anything move her from him. Even as Samar tried to roll her off of him he just shook his head. He was going to die anyway. If he had to die, he wanted it to be in Elizabeth's arms.

He couldn’t tell if Dembe was with him during his last moments of, whatever this was.

The last thing he heard before he left, were sirens. He gave a small smile. Lizzie would be fine. 

Better without him. So would Dembe. 

Dembe had always comforted Red in times when he was most likely to die. He would tell him how he would see him soon, whether in life or death. 

Red hoped that wasn’t true.

A soul as pure as Dembes’ should never go to the place where he was headed. Red knew he was going to Hell. If there was really such a place. 

But it’s ok. It’s what he deserved.

He was content now, knowing that he could have his last breath be of Elizabeth's coconut scented hair.

That Dembe was going to be with his daughter, safe. 

That Elizabeth's friends would be there for her to help her quickly get over her grief. She would more likely quickly forget him. Move on to someone who deserved her. Someone who didn’t place her in constant danger. Someone she could have a family with. Someone that wasn’t damaged beyond repair. And she would be ok. She was going to get taken to get better at the hospital.

And the world would have one less demon roaming its face. One less evil to worry about.  
Cooper would be given a red flash drive that contains the list of the rest of the Blacklist names. The task force would continue. Elizabeth would be supported financially. Dembe would be too. Dembe would move in with Isabella, retire, and spend the rest of his days watching his granddaughter grow.

Lizzie would be given an envelope. That contained his love for her, and four things he wanted her to do for him. That she move on to someone else. That she no longer work with the task force. He put special emphasis on that part. It made him sick to think that she could be put in harm's way when he couldn’t make sure she was safe. And that she be moved to a safehouse, anywhere she wanted. And the last thing, that she wouldn’t push her friends aside, that she let herself grieve properly. 

He set up a special team that would protect her for as long as she lived. He anticipated that she wouldn’t leave the task force and move to a safehouse easily, so Cooper would be given a letter begging him not to let Liz do anything reckless, and to fire her from the task force if necessary. He knew it wasn’t his place, and he knew she would do whatever she was going to do, but he just wanted to make sure that she was safe. That his influence in her life not ruin herself and her life anymore than it already has. 

It would all be smoother without him. The world would be safer. So, he closed his eyes, a smile still on his face, as he let the dark asphyxiate him.


	5. loss:chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald's POV as he watches Elizabeth and Red's relationship come into light as well as he watches the myth he spent a good chunk of his adult life chasing, fade out painfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter five! Ah! This was pretty difficult, not going to lie. Ressler is hard to write for me. I sincerely hope I did him justice. Since it is the holiday season, I will give you guys some extra content this week! But don't get too excited, because the next chapter is really angsty. (I am so sorry I honestly don't know what is wrong with meeee.) Don't worry though! The end is in sight and I hope to add some much needed fluff in the end chapters. As always thank you so much for reading and commenting, (They really keep me going and I am so grateful for them.) and please make sure to comment your thoughts below and any constructive criticism. (But because I'm lazy as heck I may or may not act on your criticism don't take it personally.)  
> ;]
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and I do not make any profit from this story. But because the producers broke them, I am fixing them. So, eat that.

Donald stood shaking, helplessly staring at Elizabeth Milhoan and Raymond Reddington as they lay dying, together.

Cooper and Samar were just as shaken. Everything that had come to light over the past 30 minutes, (that really felt like hours), was unreal.

Aram was silent over the comms, still trying to comprehend all that he had just heard from inside the Post Office.

First Liz had called Reddington ‘baby’, silencing the entire room. Then Reddington wouldn’t stop mumbling, ‘my Liz’ when she was effectively laying on top of him. That had shook Donald to his very core, and made him feel extremely angry and betrayed. Were they together? When Reddington had pleaded with Dembe to tell Milhoan that he loved her, it had confirmed it. 

Donald fumed. How long had Milhoan hidden this from him? Her partner. He knew almost everything about Liz. How had he not seen it? Looking back now it was obvious.

He had once called Milhoan early one morning and could have sworn he heard Reddington laughing in the background. He had dismissed it as something he had simply misheard.

It made him uncomfortable to see Reddington without walls. He had watched as silent tears rolled off Reddingtons bloody face. Red had looked shocked when he realized he was crying. Like it was foreign to him. 

The man that laid in front of him, dying, was not the Reddington that Donald knew and hated. Not careless. Not a stone cold killer. Just a man that just desperately wanted his partner to be ok.

Were they married? The thought made Ressler nauseous.

He had taken a bullet for Liz. Eager to die for her. Ressler got the feeling that if Liz had got the mind to kill Red, to put a bullet in his head herself, he would kneel down and take it. With a complete air of calm. Because it would make her happy. It seemed unhealthy. The devotion that radiated off the man bleeding in front of him. Not that Liz would kill him. She was clearly just as smitten with him.

Ressler hadn’t thought that it was possible for that sociopath bastard to cry, or to have a relationship with anyone, let alone Liz.

But he clearly did. More than anything.  
How often had Ressler seen them fight? Two extremely stubborn people, that only egged each other on. Gasoline to the fire. They were so many things that seemed wrong about their pairing to Ressler, but also unexpected things that fit together just right when he thought about it. They had clear chemistry. All the different undercover op’s when they had been a couple, it always seemed so real. He made her laugh, she had a way to surprise him that no one else could, she delighted in making him off kilter. It was one of her and Ressler’s favorite things to do in the downtime around the Post Office, figure out ways to wipe that calm, in control look off of Reddington’s face. 

The intense love and possessiveness that came from Reddington shocked Donald. How could it be possible for a man to keep that much passionate, pure love, under wraps? Though pure would be the last word Ressler would use to describe Raymond Reddington.

But how could it be possible for Milhoan to love him? A murderer. Liz had even kissed him.

As Ressler had watched them, he felt strange. Like he was intruding on something private and intimate. And he supposed he was. 

Even as he laid dying, Red comforted Liz, assuring her it was ok for her to rest. Reddington acted kind and loving.

An unknown side to the manipulative man Ressler had grown so accustomed to.

As much as he tried to deny it, Ressler didn’t hate Reddington. But he didn’t like him.

He was wary of him. He was a loose cannon, unpredictable, volatile. And frightening. He was seemingly unaffected by the things he did. Guiltless. 

Whatever made him this way, must have completely broken him. Even after tracking the man for so long, he had no clue what made him crack. How he went from the next Navy Admiral, to the world's wealthiest high functioning sociopath.

He rarely let his anger out, Ressler hadn’t ever seen what Raymond Reddington was like when he got angry. But if he was so ruthless when he was calm, Ressler didn’t want to see just how bad things got when the calm ceased. He was eerily calm. Always. It was unnatural. 

But given the right motive, Reddington could be the most dangerous man Ressler had yet to come across. He had all the makings of the FBI’s worst nightmare. The only thing keeping him from being so was the fact he worked in some sort of conjunction with the government, and he just lacked the interest to do anything horrendous. He was disciplined. Extremely smart, and cunning. Manipulative. Charming. Cold. Seemingly unaffected by morals.  
And Donald sometimes got the feeling he was just on the brink of derangement. 

All it would take was one push in the wrong direction.

And seeing all this, he didn’t know how Liz could stand to be with him. Knowing what he has done. And will do. It’s not like he will suddenly stop being a criminal just because Liz tells him too. He has a business, and if he is to stay alive, he has to keep that business going. Just because he only kills people that have done horrendous things themselves, that Reddington feels deserve to die, doesn’t mean that he gets to be judge, jury and executioner.

That is what the law is for. 

Liz had once confided in Donald, that she was afraid of Reddingtons’ darkness, and what it would do to her. Surely that hadn’t all been an act.

He kept watching as Reddington continued to comfort Liz.

“Rest Lizzie, I will be here when you wake up.” Red had groaned out. Clearly in excruciating pain from having Liz lay on his wounds. But he clutched her to him. Afraid to let go. Liz relaxed in his arms, giving into sleep, not able to fight drowsiness any longer. 

She felt safe with him. And if that wasn’t a novel concept.

If the talk Liz had with Donald wasn't an act, she surely didn’t feel the same way now. Something had changed. 

Reddington's tears came quicker, his face full of pain and fear. Ressler could tell Reddington knew that what he had said to Liz, was a lie.

It hurt him to lie to her. A ridiculous idea.

Elizabeth was his kryptonite. And Red knew that.

She was probably the only person in the world that Raymond Reddington would gladly let walk all over him.

But she was also his anchor. It was probably a good thing that Elizabeth kept Reddington grounded.

She might just be the angel on his shoulder. It dawned on Ressler how well they complimented each other. They actually weren’t a bad pairing. But that was too strange to think about.

Too many strange things left to ponder on another time. 

But Red must have also known that lying was the only way to spare Liz the pain of watching him die. Ressler was still shocked at how much Reddington was appearing to be considering Lizzies feelings. That was the last thing he should be worrying about, as he hung onto life by a thread.

The subtle fear on his face wasn’t for himself, instead for Liz, as he stroked her hair. All his attention focused on her. His eyes filled with concern as he looked her over. 

Resslers brow furrowed and eyes widened as he watched Raymond Reddington, the larger than life myth he had chased for a good chunk of his adult life, fade from existence.

Clutching to Elizabeth as if she was life itself. As if she could save him from his pain. Like she was his antidote. 

He grew paler, and Dembe sat next to Red mouthing words, silently praying for his friend. 

Dembe looked so stricken, it must be hard seeing his friend die. Though Ressler had always passively wondered what Reddington did for Dembe to deserve such devotion. Maybe it was underserved. 

Ressler wondered what Dembe's opinion was on what would happen to Reddingtons soul after he died, Dembe seemed religious enough to have his own views on things.

That was also hard to grasp. A man of faith hanging out with the FBI’s most wanted everyday. 

It was especially heart wrenching when Samar had tried to pry Liz from Red to look at his wounds again, and he wouldn’t let her go. Samars tough exterior fell and she stepped away, overwhelmed by everything happening around her. Each member of the team stood around trying to be doing something productive. Something in order to help make sure the safety of their friends was provided. 

Baz stood outside waiting for the ambulance. Cooper stood off to the side calling in a police escort. Samar now stood talking to Aram and updating him, her voice breaking and tears streaming down her face as she looked back to the two bodies on the floor clinging to each other.

It was hard to watch. They were in their own little world together.

Ressler felt utterly useless. He could do nothing but watch, he had nothing to contribute to help his friends.

Sirens came, and everything that followed was a blur. Ressler and Cooper ran with Elizabeth in their arms, while Dembe and Baz followed close behind with Raymond, meeting the EMT’s half way. Reddington had a sickening smile plastered onto his face. Blood leaving a red trail behind them.

Donald didn’t miss the irony.

The two white ambulances reflected the dipping sun straight into Ressler's eyes. As Liz was strapped onto a gurney, Ressler climbed into the ambulance with her.

He wondered if Reddington had been declared dead yet. He had passed out quite a few minutes ago.

He would be surprised if he lived to make it to the hospital. Samar updated the EMT’s with both Milhoan and Red’s conditions before climbing into one of the black SUV’s to follow the ambulances to the hospital. Soon the two ambulances were on their way to the hospital, where Cooper had cleared an entire floor for them.

As they merged onto the freeway a police escort surrounded them. 

A box of death.

Liz began to wake up again. Cooper clutched her hand as Ressler attempted to answer her questions.

“R-Raymond-” Her voice was barely a whisper, full of anxiety and fear. It chipped away at Ressler's anger towards Milhoan's betrayal. He did feel horrible for Liz. He couldn’t stay mad at her for betraying him and the task force while she was clearly in so much pain.

He remembered Aubrey and how it was Red that had given him those precious few months with her. After he had saved Donald's life. And then not hesitated to take it when Elizabeth was in danger. He had stated simply, 

“If you can't save her, you're of no use whatsoever.” He had seen the look in Red’s eye and figured he had nothing left to lose. Donald thought he was going to die either way. So why not save Liz in the process. Reflecting back now, he could clearly see the determined look in Reddingtons’ eyes. He would kill for Liz, himself included as shown by how eager he was to get out of the box when there was a gun to Milhoan’s head. The code to the box had been Romeo. 

Even more irony. 

Liz clearly loved Reddington as much as Donald loved Aubrey. If Red did die, this would be hard for her. And he would be there for her just like she was there for him then. 

“He’s on his way to the hospital too, we don’t know how he is.” He decided the best approach was to be truthful, not to sugarcoat it. She would want to know the truth no matter what it was. She inhaled a gasp, her breaths becoming uneven and fast. Her eyes filled with tears. She appeared to almost be on the brink of having a panic attack. Seeing this Cooper stepped in.

“He is going to be okay Liz- Take a deep breath- that's it Liz- in- out-” They arrived at the hospital after Reddingtons ambulance, and when Ressler stepped out onto the concrete he saw a ghost of a man being rolled into the hospital.

His now paper white arm hung off the gurney.

But the most disturbing thing was that his eyes were wide open. His moss green eyes were trained in Resslers direction staring right through him unblinkingly. He looked dead. His mouth was drawn in a straight line. His face was neutral, numb, deadpan.

The red blood running out the corner of his mouth made his eyes seem all the more intense. A shudder ran through Ressler.

Things seemed to slow down as he saw the EMTs run Reddington into the ICU.  
His eyes were haunting. Broken. Surprisingly human.

Seeing it made Ressler feel ill. He didn’t know why. 

Then suddenly causing Ressler to jump, as if having heard a morbid joke, Reddington suddenly gave a dark, twisted, pain filled smirk, eyes still trained on Ressler. His eye twitched. Ressler had learned by watching, that was Reddingtons tell. He usually had amazing control on what emotion showed through his body language. He must be hallucinating, it was the only logical conclusion Donald could come to, and when he saw his mouth moving slightly, mumbling to himself, it made it become beyond reasonable doubt in his mind.

At least he was (surprisingly) still alive.

This was a good thing, Ressler was sure. Maybe not for him, but for Milhoan, and Dembe. And for the FBI. Reddington was an important asset. 

Ressler stood unmoving, eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly agape as he watched Reddington disappear into the building.

He had no clue as to why he was so affected by that look on Reddington's face.

It was like he was in his own world, unaffected by things happening around him. Unaffected by his own pain, still giving a sickening smile even though he was almost dead. Drained of all his blood. Already looking like a corpse. 

He finally managed to turn his head away from the door Reddington had just disappeared through. He saw Dembe crumpled on the pavement, back to the wall, and head in his blood covered hands. He watched, feeling like an outsider, as Baz gave a broken Dembe a few pats on the back before pulling him in a man-hug. Donald had never seen Dembe frown, let alone look so hopeless and scared. He had always been a pillar of strength. And now he had crumbled.

It all seemed like a bad dream.

Elizabeth was rolled in afterwards, giving small whimpers as Cooper ran in alongside her. Ressler was overcome with exhaustion.

He stumbled and collapsed into the now abandoned SUV Samar had brought and watched as the world and everyone he knew, crumbled around him.


	6. loss:chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz has to cope with Red being in surgery, grabbing everything she will need to be by his side from her apartment before she can get information on his condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Crimmas! (that is if you celebrate Christmas if you don't then happy holidays!) This is my Christmas gift to everyone, letting you guys know how fricken amazingly happy it makes me that you guys are reading my story. So this chapter is crazy long, but I just couldn't find any place to reasonably cut it off. It is almost 10 pages in Doc's compared to my usual 6 pages per chapter.
> 
> Yikes.
> 
> Sorry about that. I would just like to say, I am super sorry for how angsty this chapter is, so I tried to sprinkle in some nice head-cannon and found family vibes. I cannot honestly tell if the contrast made the angst worse or not.
> 
> Heh.
> 
> I am starting to get kind of worried I am going to scare everyone away with how dark I am letting this fic get. Because even if this chapter is bad, chapter nine is like 5 times worse. But anyway just a friendly reminder that Red does not die, I just felt the need to put emphasis on that. Ok anyway on with the show...
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I make no money off of my stories. But TBL producers demolished a completely good thing so I felt the need to explore my favorite pairing and make some drama because if you couldn't already tell I am a ham. Long live Lizzington! 
> 
> (Also, just a public health announcement, if you post my stories without my permission, I will find you and fix whatever it is in your mind that makes you think that I will let that slide. That is not a threat, it is a fact. Have a nice day.)   
> :)

As soon as she was alone she fell to the floor and sobbed. She found herself starting to hyperventilate. She kept seeing him as he hit the ground with a thud. A small groan escaping his thin lips. That helpless look on his face she had never seen before-

She hit her back against the wall, and burrowed her head in her hands, as it all flooded back to her.

Baz had dropped her off at her apartment to get her things to go back to the hospital. Where she had just been discharged. The doctors found nothing further wrong with her after she had come out of the effects of the allergic reaction and Epi-Pen. Donald had explained Raymond's current condition to her when she was awake enough to understand. He was still in intensive surgery after they had gotten him there four hours ago. Just barely in time. The damage was severe, but it was unclear the exact extent of it. 

Liz had fallen back asleep, the drugs fighting in her system were just too much for her, after she had been admitted into the hospital.

He was due out of surgery about two hours from now. They would be updated on his condition then.

She just couldn’t stop thinking about the last thing he had said to her. He had to have known it was a lie.

And he never lied.

He comforted her, even as he knew it was likely the last thing he would ever say to her. Another sudden image invaded her mind, coming unwelcomed as she saw his blood pooling under him. She tried to wipe it from her mind but it only came back as she choked back a whimper at seeing his blood so vividly. It spilling out of his mouth as he gurgled her name his eyes searching her face, he looked so desperate-

Her chest constricted. She couldn’t breathe. She walked into her bedroom, vision blurred, and sunk to the floor again. She still saw his face as he vomited up blood, the confusion that was painted on his features. He still hadn’t figured out that he had been shot. The thoughts that overcame her now were so powerful, she didn’t know how it would be possible to keep them at bay if he had truly left. If he was gone. 

Gone.

But this time it was happier memories that flooded her and she suddenly wasn’t alone in the room, seeing visions of him and her in the past, blissfully unaware of what was to come. These only hurt her that much more, cutting deeper and deeper. 

She saw them slowly swaying to the music in her kitchen to a random song Ray had dug for on her phone, frustratingly asking her how he was supposed to use the ‘Your-tube’ to find some music to dance to. 

She saw herself staring at him while he slept, examining him closely, enthralled by his features. 

She saw him carefully portioning out brownie batter and sliding the tray into the oven as she smeared the batter all over his face. They then stumbled their way to the bedroom, as she giggled uncontrollably. Stuck to one another as she licked the batter back off his face. He had let out a gruff laugh before scooping her up and carrying her the rest of the way to the bed. She had been so desperate to rediscover him. She would never not love touching every inch of him. Needless to say the brownies came out of the oven as black as soot. 

Another time, when her and Red had been stumbling around aimlessly, knocking everything in their way over as they fought to gain ground on one another, pinning each other to whatever surface was nearby. Lust clouding their vision as he fought with the buttons on her blouse all the while she was sucking on his ear, her legs wrapped around his waist. Their passion interrupted by a falling lamp that had landed on Red's sock covered foot, and the subsequent stream of curses that came from him as he hopped around on one foot, while she was bent over laughing, her shirt half undone. He may no longer be a sailor but he still had the mouth of one if you caught him off guard. 

The tears quickened as she grabbed a fistful of fabric from her floor.

Would they ever get to make new happy memories together? 

She heard a petrified whimper that made her jump. She looked around the room confused before she realized it had been her that had made the noise. She was just as quickly distracted by the fabric, her attention bouncing all around the room, a hundred thoughts flooding her at once.

She thumbed it gently and it felt familiar. She looked down, futilely wiping the tears from her eyes to be able to try to place where she knew it from. She stopped as she realized it was one of Raymond's white button up shirts.

It was his. 

At that moment that shirt was the only thing that mattered. A piece of him.

It felt familiar due to the many times she had grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him into her lips, his jaw strongly working against hers. She could feel how devoted he was to her then, how much he loved her and how he practically worshipped her. 

Or when she had worn only his shirt, mischievously smirking at him as she grabbed him by his tie to tow him to the bedroom. He stood gaping, watching her in a trance like state as she took complete control. She always got what she wanted, and he understood that perfectly.

And the other times she had simply just held him, and rubbed his back, feeling his mottled skin through the shirt she now held in her hand.

She loved to rub his back and trace the patterns of his burns with her fingers. She was oddly fascinated with his scars. Not just his back, but all his unique marks and the equally unique story that came with each one. Emotional scars included. 

(There surely were a lot. And though she loved his stories, she hated thinking about all the times he had been hurt, all the pain and anguish he had to endure and all the things he would never completely heal from. His horrific nightmares that kept him from sleep, all the things he still carried around to this day, that left him hollow.) 

Though he would never admit it out loud, he loved it too. He melted like butter under her touch, quietly sighing with contentment as he fell asleep. Her fingers and lips temporarily healing all his pain. He loved that she didn’t care about his misshapen back, or any other mark on him. Physical or otherwise. 

It always calmed her to trace her fingers along his skin.

Similar to how she traced her own scar on her wrist whenever she was anxious. 

Feeling the fire’s mark now, desperate for some relief of her pain, reminded her of Sam. Her adoptive father that had taken her in when both her parents had died in a fire when she was young. Sam had been over that terrible night, he was dear friends with her dad, Daniel Scott and her mom Katerina Rostova. He was able to get Lizzie out from the blaze.

With help from Red, Lizzie had used her past to bring the Cabal to its knees. Finishing what her parents, Sam, and Leonard Caul had started.

She had learned the sticky truth of her past with help from Raymond. Her mom, a Russian agent, had flipped when she had given birth to Liz. Back then she was called Masha. 

Wanting to save her from the fate of a Russian sleeper agent, and to be able to stay with her American father, Katerina Rostova had come up with a plan to be free. Katerina had found out about the Cabal through her Russian husband, Constantin Rostov who was a key member, and she had decided the only way to guarantee her and her daughters freedom, was to take them down.

So she recruited Daniel who was in the Air Force, who in turn got help from Sam who was in the Navy and probably had seen or heard of Red. The last member of their little group was Leonard Caul, a genius programmer who compiled the blackmail info they found from their various branches of the military onto a small device they called the Fulcrum. Hoping to use it to bring the Cabal to light. However, they never got the chance.

Constantin found them hiding in America, and brought the full force of the Cabal with him when he came to retrieve his wife, and who he believed to be his daughter. He was blissfully unaware of the affair her mother was having with a U.S military man. They burnt down the house, and searched for the Fulcrum. Both her parents were killed, luckily Caul and Sam got out of the fire, bringing Liz and unknowingly, the fulcrum with them. Her mother had the foresight to place the fulcrum sewn into one of Liz's stuffed animals.

A last ditch effort to bring justice to the Cabal. Unfortunately Sam and Caul weren’t aware of this. They thought the fulcrum had been lost to the blaze. And Sam never brought it up, thinking it better to leave Liz happily ignorant of the nightmare her parents had been through.

It wasn’t until Red had come into her life, and convinced her that Tom was a Cabal operative, that had been leaking info off of Liz and searching for the fulcrum in his spare time, that Liz had found it in her old, burnt, stuffed rabbit.

The Cabal had come to the same conclusion as Red, that Liz, Katerina Rostva’s only child, had to be in possession of it, knowingly or not. So Tom was placed in her life by the Cabal, and Red turned himself in, determined to get revenge for his family who was also a casualty of the Cabal.

Killed while the Cabal stole Red’s files to frame him for terrorism, and then covering up the fact that his family had even been killed in the first place. Making it seem as if they were still alive and well, in witness protection to hide from Red.

The ghosts the Cabal had created in place of Red’s dead wife and daughter were given fake names. Naomi and Jennifer Hyland. It was as much physical torture as it was psychological, having Red find his dead wife and daughter, and then being told that they were still alive and that he was crazy. That their blood that would be forever stained on his hands was all imagined. 

All his friends believed he had lost it, and then only 2 days after he had entered that blood covered house he was on the run, framed for terrorism. It was then when he saw what documents of his were supposedly leaked that it all came together, the various puzzle pieces locking in perfectly together. That was when he went after the Cabal, his singular reason to get out of bed for 30 years. 

Raymond had always remarked it was fate that he had even learned of the fulcrum’s existence, let alone that he was able to find the person that most likely had it.  
He had heard the ghost stories of the Russian agent that died in a house fire, set by the Cabal to cover their track and find the blackmail file. No one had known Katerina had a daughter, so no one knew where to look for it for quite some time.

Until Raymond, and the Cabal came to the same conclusion at roughly the same time as Elizabeth advanced in her career at the FBI. Her starting to work at the FBI made her presence known and after that it didn’t take long for people to find out who she truly was.

Although it was thought that Liz was aware she had it in her possession, when she didn’t even know her parents real names. Leonard and Sam had hidden her, and hidden her well. Determined to save the only innocent life left in the entire mess. 

Making sure no one would ever know her connection to the legendary agent, and fighter pilot.

Sam kept her out of danger. Not letting her know who was looking for her, all that time. Even as he lay dying of lung cancer, the year before she graduated from Quantico, he would not tell her anything of her past.

Only of how proud he was of her, and how proud her parents were of her. How he saw them in her everyday.

She could use Sam right now, her dad always knew what to say to her, what wisdom to share or comfort to give. She missed him more than anything. 

Her mind skipped to another memory that had suddenly intruded upon her mind. Her subconscious careful to change the thoughts processing in her mind, anytime they gave her any kind of emotional reaction. Trying to save her from more pain. Trying to distract her from any trauma or fear. To keep her as numb and functional as possible.

The next random memory provided was the day she had seen for herself Red’s scarred back.   
Why this was the thing that came to mind, she didn’t have the slightest clue.

She had already read in his medical report, from that first day he turned himself in, what the doctor that had fitted him with his first tracking chip had written after examining him.

“Subject displays extensive third degree burns scarring across his upper and lower back, extending to his upper left thigh, buttock, and shoulders. When asked about how he came to have these scars he replied with, ‘I accidentally pissed off a Russian operative code named SeaDuke when I was in the Navy. Let’s just say that torture by molten lead for 10 days isn’t a pleasurable experience. Of course Agent Cooper would be able to tell you all about that lovely little incident. He could have saved you all a whole lot of trouble if his team had just taken a bit longer and let my sorry ass die. Too bad. Hindsight is 20/20 isn’t it Harold?’”

Then a few months later after a close call in Delaware with a member of the U.S senate, (or more like a close call with his armed goons) who happened to have information on the Cabal, Liz got to see them first hand. He had been grazed by a bullet on his shoulder and was bleeding profusely. She practically had to pin him down to get him to take off his undershirt, and he was fairly embarrassed while doing so, trying every excuse he could think of not to.

(She didn’t have much time to ponder on the fact that he was embarrassed with her seeing what he perceived to be his ugliness and imperfections, when he seemingly didn’t care when the doctor back in the box had seen them. Or with the fact that Harold knew.) 

At the time she hadn’t even remembered the medical report and what it detailed, she was more worried about his abundantly bleeding wound. She had taken just a second to stare at his horribly marred skin, holding his bloody shirt in her hand while she tentatively reached out to touch him. But she pulled her hand back realizing what she was going to do was probably not appropriate.

(At that time she still didn’t understand why she subconsciously longed to touch him.)

It looked painful even though it had long been healed by then. She had remembered how her own flesh smelled as it was burning, the intense pain of every nerve being set aflame on her wrist. She couldn’t imagine how horrible that must have been for him. The absolute agony of dealing with such excruciating pain for almost two entire weeks. Of being left to die and thinking he may never see his little girl again. But still being loyal to his country. Denying giving up information, denying making the pain stop. He was still loyal to his country then, because his country was still loyal to him. He must have taken years to recover, to heal. It was a miracle he didn’t die of his injuries, they were horrific. How much worse were his nightmares of heat and pain compared to hers? The damage was catastrophic, his back a rocky and afflicted landscape. 

She was pulled from her shock and horror at how painful his injury must have been when she heard him groan softly, and watched his reaction as he tightly closed his eyes waiting for the uncomfortable questions to come. She had realized then that this was a subject that he wasn’t ready to discuss with her. So she decided not to say anything as she stowed away her shock, and calmly began to tend to his wounds regaining her composure.

She didn’t want to make him uneasy around her.

He had looked up, a mildly shocked expression on his face, that morphed into a small smile of satisfied surprise at her acceptance of his scars. She hadn’t realised how significant her acceptance of his back was for him until he had told her his point of view from that memory many months later. 

Her mind came back to his shirt, suddenly aware of the tangent her mind had taken her on to distract her from her memories of him dying on the concrete floor, the blood bubbling in the back of his throat, the desperate look on his face as he bleed out -

He must have left the shirt on her floor when he stayed over last week. Or had it been two weeks ago? Time suddenly seemed impossible to decipher.

She curled into a small ball, her knees melting into her chest, and pulled the comforting fabric to her nose. She inhaled deeply, trying desperately to regain control over herself. His shirt smelled of wood, the ocean and his aftershave. Combined with a subtle hint of scotch and smoke from his cigars.

She remembered that Baz would be back waiting for her downstairs soon after getting Dembe's things from the 40 minute drive to Isabella's house for him. Before Red had been taken, he had told Dembe to stay with his daughter and granddaughter for the weekend while he and Lizzie had their own weekend.

Her heart tightened again, as she thought about what they could have done, how she could have held him again, ran her hands over his short cropped hair. Lightly scratched his scalp with her nails. How they could have done anything else at all. And he would be safe.

She took one more steadying breath of Red's shirt before she put it on herself. It reminded her of how it felt to be wrapped up in his arms. Safe.

She could hear him comforting her even now,   
“One step at a time Lizzie. Rome wasn’t conquered in a day.” He would then go on about Rome and how he did something incredibly stupid while there. She was certain there was a story there she hadn’t yet heard.

She stood and regained her balance bent over on her bed.

Their bed.

She walked over to her closet and took down a small black duffle bag. She figured she would get three sets of clothes, she could always come back for more. She stuffed her different ordinances in her bag and walked over to her bathroom.

She stopped when she saw Red’s spare toothbrush and shaving kit under the sink. She didn’t know how she kept it together but she did. She simply grabbed her own toothbrush and comb, and trudged back to her bed to throw everything inside. Feeling oddly numb.

She needed to shower. She stripped off her pants, stopping at the thought of taking off Raymond's shirt. She carefully placed it on the sink along with what she would change into, not exactly sure what she was planning to do with it.

She stood under the hot water, and tried to imagine what they would do when Red recovered. It was all she could do to keep from breaking down again.

Even if she subconsciously knew she was setting herself up for failure if things went wrong.

She had just finished washing the shampoo out of her hair when she heard her phone ringing on the sink. Her heart dropped. Fearing the worst she tripped out of the shower fumbling to grab her phone and catching it just before it plunged into the toilet.

It was Aram. She answered quickly.  
“Hello?” She couldn’t stop the panic from seeping into her voice.   
“Hey Liz-” He wasn’t able to finish as Liz cut him off.  
“Aram is Raymond ok?” She asked breathlessly. He stopped after it registered in his mind that she may be expecting bad news and quickly went to reassure her.  
“Oh no, nothing like that. Sorry. He is fine so far, still in surgery, but Samar and I were wanting to get food for everyone, so we were just wondering when you will be back so we could have it hot for you.” She was taken aback by his words, wondering how long she had gone without food. She hadn’t even thought about eating.   
“Oh. Well Baz should be picking me up in about 10 minutes, then the extra hour to get to the hospital. Who all is there?” She was taken aback once again. She hadn’t thought that anyone would be there other than Dembe when she got back. She should have known better. She had once again forgotten that her friends wouldn’t leave her. That Raymond's friends wouldn’t leave him. She felt relief at that thought, that she had a support system. That she wasn’t alone. She looked at her clock. It was 10:00pm.   
“Oh everyone is here and planning to stay the night. But anyway we were thinking pizza. Some comfort food you know. Is that ok with you?” She felt so thankful for her friends once again. She had to keep back a giggle. Red really hated D.C pizza. He had once got food poisoning from some uncooked Canadian bacon. She had spent that night with him, helping him try not to kill himself as puked his guts out.  
“Pizza is great Aram. Thank you. I-I just can’t tell you how thankful I am to you guys. Thank you. I’m sure Red is grateful to have his friends there too.” Her voice broke a little.   
“You’re welcome Liz. And don’t worry. We got you. We will have hot pizza by the time you get here. Oh and Liz?”  
“Yeah?”  
“He is going to pull through.” Liz heard Ress in the background next, as he quipped,  
“Yeah, cause we haven’t found a way to kill the bastard yet.” She heard everyone in the lobby of the hospital break out in laughter at the truth in Ressler's words. Cooper's laughter stood out as being one of the loudest. He most likely shared the sentiment the most out of all of them knowing him from all the way back in Red’s Navy days. Aram was still breathless from laughter when he came back on the phone.  
“Anyway I’ll let you get back to packing. We will see you soon Agent Milhoan.” The phone beeped with a finality as Aram hung up.

She took it from everyone laughter in the lobby and the fact that they all were staying the night that no one was too appalled learning the status of her and Red's relationship. Or they hadn’t had the chance to really absorb the information yet.  
She finished her shower and stepped out to dry herself as her eyes settled on Red’s shirt again. She really wanted to wear it. To pretend that his strong arms were around her again. To pretend everything was ok.

But knew it would be odd if she did.

So she stuffed in her duffle bag alongside her wallet and zipped it up. She put on her most comfortable sweater and leggings. She would need them. She didn’t bother with makeup, knowing that it wouldn’t stay on if she heard bad-

No. She pushed the thought out of her mind as she left her bedroom.

Her phone rang again, this time it was Baz. She made her way to the window to see the car out front.

She did a once over of the apartment making sure she had everything before she made her way to her door to slip on her shoes.

She looked back and caught sight of the bookcase in the corner. She made her way back to it and pulled out a book she had picked up from a yard sale that had made her think of Red when she had gotten it. A hardcover of the Merchant of Venice. She had contemplated storing it away to give to him for Christmas even though it was only September. She was glad she hadn’t gotten around to it. This would be better. She forced it with difficulty into her already overflowing duffel and walked downstairs.


	7. loss:chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz get's to see Red, and get's an update on his condition. Saram is present because I love them. And lot's of found family good vibes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked the little story I added into this chapter, I can see it realistically happening for them. My favorite part about the little story was writing Dembe. I just love Dembe so much. 
> 
> I would also like to note, I HAVE THIS STORY FINISHED!! It is eleven chapters long, so I will continue with my regular posting schedule every Monday until it is all posted here. (plus a new years treat)  
> I already have two fic's cooking, one is an AU on Cape May that is so angsty I'm scared I'm gonna scare everyone away. Heh. The other is a concept I have been toying with for a while, Red get's super hammered on Christmas Eve and tells Liz the Bloody Christmas story. Also very angsty. But with some good comforting, and cuddling fluff in there as well towards the end. 
> 
> ]:0
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and make no profit off of my stories.
> 
> Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read my little fic, your comments and kudo's mean everything to me. Please keep them coming. I love you all so much!!!! Mwah.
> 
> Now without further ado-

Almost an hour after Baz had picked Liz up from her apartment, they arrived at the hospital and Liz felt every fear come storming back.

Baz came around the back of the black Mercedes to grab Dembe's backpack. He went to grab Elizabeth's duffle as well, but Liz quickly snatched it before he could. Even though she was sure he was just trying to be nice, she didn’t want his pity. She could carry her own luggage. Besides, what was inside was too precious to be trusted to anyone but herself.

She walked up to the revolving door, and through the lobby. When she reached the third floor, the elevator doors opened to security.  
“Stop here Miss. This is a restricted floor. I’m going to need some credentials.” It was just as Liz realized that she had left her badge at home, that Harold walked up behind the guard and with a tap on the shoulder gently pushed him aside.

“This is Agent Milhoan. She can come in. I will vouch for her.” The guard was immediately embarrassed and flustered.

Elizabeth didn’t wait around for an apology, feeling increasingly uneasy.

Cooper followed close behind her as she took the first doctor she saw and pulled him aside.

“Excuse me sir, I need an update on Raymond Reddington.” Cooper stood behind Liz, supporting the sentiment that she could be trusted with the information. The doctor coolly looked down to the clipboard in his hands, and thumbed through a few pages. He looked up with a straight face that irrationally made Liz want to start crying.

“It appears he will be out of surgery soon. I’d say about 30 minutes. All has gone well so far. When he is out you will be the first ones to know.” He turned and walked away, not waiting to see Liz’s reaction.

Her stomach leapt up to her throat, and she felt tears starting to swell.

Cooper put a hand on her shoulder and she immediately flipped around into his arms for a hug. Harold let out a small ‘omph’ of surprise before tentatively wrapping his arms around her. She let a few silent tears fall as she buried herself into Cooper's cotton jacket.

“I’m so sorry Milhoan.” His voice was just above a whisper as he awkwardly patted her back. Not entirely sure what to do with his agent falling apart at the seams in his arms. 

“Are we going to be punished? I know how crazy it all seems and how crazy I seem but I just love him and I’m so scared for him, and I know it won't look good if an FBI agent is dating an International criminal, I mean the first rule of any situation like this is don't fall in love with your CI but he is just so-”

She was rambling, and breathing raggedly, all her anxiety being poured out over Cooper. Harold cut her off before she spiraled too far out of control.

“Look Milhoan, I support you two. He can’t be worse than Tom. He loves you. I saw that today. And you love him. That's all that matters right now. Don’t worry about everything else. Just worry about him getting better.” He spoke with a steady certainty that calmed Liz.

Cooper guided her gently back to the waiting room where everyone was lounging.

Three pizza boxes were stacked up on a low standing coffee table, staining the magazines under them with grease. There were beer bottles standing around the table’s rim alongside white water cups with sharpied initials tattooed onto their surfaces.

Sitting in front of the pizza boxes was Aram’s laptop, playing Doctor Who for anyone that wanted to watch.

All the furniture was made into a ring around the central coffee table. Most everyone was gathered around the far side of the room, completely engrossed in what was happening on the newest episode on Aram’s laptop. He had no doubt hacked into some server or another to get free high speed Wifi and early access to the newest episode in the series. The thought made Liz smile. 

Aram and Samar sat leaning into each other, Aram’s arm around Samar holding her tight. Ressler also sat on the long couch, leaning away from Samars feet. It seemed that everyone had had a chance to make it to their various houses to change into some comfortable clothes and grab what belongings they needed.

Dembe stood behind the occupied couch leaning against the wall, leafing through a magazine. Baz was already walking up to him with a sad smile, holding out the backpack with Dembe’s change of clothes.  
Cooper walked around Milhoan, giving her a pat on the small of her back before sitting down in a single seated chair.

Everyone looked up at once as Liz walked into the small room. They all stood.

Aram rushed at her and scooped her up in a big bear hug. Ressler grabbed Liz’s duffle out of her hand and placed it near everyone else's stuff, while Samar took a paper plate and started to haphazardly pile some pizza slices onto it.  
Cooper pushed a chair around next to Dembe's unoccupied chair so that Liz could sit and watch the laptop. It was almost home.

But Red wasn’t here to make it complete.

Aram leaned out of their embrace for just a moment to look at Liz.

“I am so sorry.” He pulled her back into his lanky frame. Samar spoke next.  
“How are you feeling? Physically speaking.” She had a look of concern matching Arams’ as he led her to her seat. Samar placed the lukewarm pizza in Liz's lap.  
“I’m not as tired. Just achy. I’m fine though. Thank you Samar. You saved my life.” Samar gave a small smile as Liz dug into her pizza. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was.  
“Anytime.” She turned back to the laptop as Dembe sat down next to Liz with a sigh. Ressler spoke, relief in his voice that Liz wasn’t hurt physically.  
“I’m glad you're ok Milhoan. And, I’m sorry about Reddington.” The room all gave small nods of agreement with Donald's sentiment. Even though it sounded strangely half hearted.

She knew that Ress was going to be bothered by how he found out, and just the fact that she was with Reddington. She was just glad that he was still here, and seemed to be pushing his own misgivings to the side for the moment. 

Liz looked up at Dembe. He looked like a wreck. Liz took his hand and gave a small watery smile that Dembe returned. He squeezed her hand.

A balding man in a white lab coat and sea green scrubs walked around the corner with a clipboard in his hand. Liz and Dembe shot up simultaneously still hand in hand. Dembe gave Liz’s hand one last squeeze as the doctor started speaking, before he let go.

“Mr. Reddington is fine for right now. The surgery went well. All the bullet fragments were successfully pulled and he stitched up well. On top of the bullet wounds, and extreme blood loss, he has five broken ribs, multiple lacerations, and a very serious concussion that has caused the brain to swell. We won’t know the severity of his injuries until he wakes up. He is stable for the moment but that can be quick to change. He is not out of the woods yet. We aren’t sure if he will pull through the night. He lost a tremendous amount of blood. To be frank, it's a miracle he made it here in time to get surgery.”

The room fell quiet, all heads turning to Dembe and Liz. 

Everyone carefully looked their friends over, trying to get a sense of how they were handling the news. Everyone knew this would be the hardest on them. They were the only two people on the planet that Reddington let past his bullet proof defenses.

Liz slowly absorbed what the doctor was trying to say, it not quite yet hitting her. She was numb again, not really feeling anything. The doctor continued without missing a beat.

“He will be out of it due to the anesthesia and the medication we have to keep him on until his brain swelling becomes less severe. It isn’t possible to say how long we will have to keep him under. He has just been transported to a room down the hall for recovery from the surgery. He was very lucky not to pass on the table.” It finally hit. Really having no rhyme or reason as to when the numbness dissipated.

Liz covered her mouth with her hands, simultaneously wiping the pooling tears, trying to keep herself breathing. Dembe put a hand around her back and planted it on her shoulder. His hands were shaking. A few quiet tears of his own rolled off his cheek. She was relieved he made it through the surgery, but ‘If he pulls through the night?’

The tears that had been threatening to overflow fell now, and Liz broke into a silent sob leaning heavily into Dembe. The room spun around her. The rest of the room became full of grief, thicker than fog, seeing just how much pain Liz and Dembe were in, simultaneously looking to their friends and grappling with the idea of a world without Raymond Reddington.

The thought was absurd. After all, the man was practically bullet proof. 

Dembe spoke insistently. Reading Liz’s mind and asking on both their behaves before she had the chance to pull herself together.

“Can we see him?” His voice was determined and stronger than Liz had expected. The doctor looked up from his notes and placed the blue pen he was holding in his lab coat pocket.

“Yes but just you two for right now. Right this way.” The doctor turned and Liz and Dembe quickly followed him the nine doors down the left side of the hall, their overnight bags in hand.

Liz stopped in front of the door and didn’t hesitate to pull it open, anxious to get to him. The numbness was back just as quickly as it left.

His eyes were closed. The bed he was laying in was completely flat. Liz was surprised to see that his face was even paler than the cream sheet clad bed. She stood by the doorway, not able to move as Dembe stepped in and closed the door behind them. She observed the room, and took it all in.

The heart monitor giving a stable beep, indicating his heart's rhythm. The bag of blood hooked into his arm. His mouth agape with the blue intubation tube protruding from his pale lips. It connected to a ventilator in the corner of the room that gave a whooshing sound every time it forced him to breathe.

She took two small hesitant steps forward before she rushed to him, almost breaking into a full on sprint. She stopped herself, realizing that she was going to leap into his arms, and reminded herself that she really had nowhere to leap to.

She checked his face again, surprised to see that there wasn’t any blood around his mouth. She didn’t know why she had expected to see his blood, but it was jarring when she didn’t.

She grabbed his hand, and the tears came again.

She was really starting to get annoyed with the back and forth of having every emotion flood her at once, then having no emotion at all. She wished she could just make up her mind of what her body was going to end up doing.

The psychologist in her told her how absurd that was, but she didn’t care. She was just done with the emotional whiplash.

She sat down with a thump in the bedside chair, simultaneously dropping her bag without any thought as to where it went. Dembe sat down across her, landing in his own chair taking Ray’s other hand.

He bowed his head and began to pray again.

Liz just rested her head on the mattress, resting it just above his hand so she could observe it. She listened to Dembe’s mumbled prayer, and tried to make heads or tails of it. Of course she couldn’t though, considering she never did get a handle on understanding Arabic. Even after all those lessons from a very patient Dembe.

A sad smile came to her face, remembering the day when she had made Red spend the entire day speaking only Arabic.

It had all come about when Liz had gotten annoyed at Red when they had a passionate discussion about how Arabic was a pointlessly hard language to master.

Liz was trying to learn some of the language for an upcoming meeting with an associate of Red’s for the next name on the Blacklist and she was struggling.

A lot.

They had two days left until the meeting and even with Dembe teaching her, they weren’t making much progress with even the simplest phrases.

When Red had asked her how it was going in the middle of one of their lessons, she had vented to him, to which he tactlessly replied, 

“I don’t understand why this is so hard for you, I never had much trouble with-”

He realized his mistake only just too late and when he looked up to a very ticked off Liz.

He had a truly frightened look in his eyes as he realized what had just come out of his mouth.

Dembe just simply stood up from his chair, shook his head at Raymond with a ‘tsk’, and left the room without another word.

Liz felt a plan begin to formulate in her head. She narrowed her eyes and unblinkingly challenged Red that he couldn’t go an entire day in D.C speaking only Arabic, in both writing and in spoken word.

He knew better than to try and shirk out of the bet, due to the fact that Liz had great power over how miserable his next few days could be without her. He had no choice but to take the dare and try to gain her good graces back.

She followed him around the entire day with Dembe, who had agreed to help with all too much glee at his friend’s predicament. Red had glared daggers at Dembe, cutting him to little pieces, when he burst out laughing as he heard what Liz was planning to make Red do.

He had failed the challenge before the clock turned past 2pm. 

Liz had startled him by sticking her cold hands under his shirt. He had flinched back yelling a nasty curse in pure English. He seethed as Elizabeth left his apartment without another word, a satisfied smirk on her face as she left a cursing Red and Dembe rolling off the couch laughing hysterically.

Of course she had tried to punish him, not giving him the time of day and playing hard to get. Red was more than exasperated and apologized profusely even trying to pout a little.

She was aware she was enjoying his pain a little too much.

(She always did, As did he-)

But she was just having too much fun.

However, she wasn’t able to fall asleep that night without telling him goodnight, and a ‘I love you’. So she gave him a call before bed making sure to tell him just how much she loved him and that she was a little sorry for teasing him. Though only a little. 

He was at her door the next morning with breakfast, and entirely to many kisses in the doorway. 

(For being out in the open at least. She could never have too many of his kisses in private.)

She snapped back to reality with that thought, and focused back in on his hands, rough and worn.  
(She kept trying to tell the fool to use lotion. But he didn’t like the film it left behind.)

His callouses fitted perfectly into her softer, smaller hands. 

His hands were strong and always knew exactly where to go, or what she needed them to do.

She flipped them over gently, exposing his flat palm. She locked her fingers into his. A small exasperated sigh came, as the tears threatened to blind her again.


	8. loss:chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red starts to begin coming out of the effects of the drugs he is on, and has a few moments of clarity along with a horrific drug induced hallucination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew boy. This is, a heavy chapter. I am extremely nervous to post it. It is a lot. I think maybe I should have dialed back some, but I couldn't without changing most of the chapter. And I really don't want to do that. This may be one of the most angst saturated chapters of fiction you will ever read. 
> 
> Trigger warning: We have dead loved ones, nightmares of the worst kind, and extreme grief. If you are grieving from losing a loved one to a violent event please do not read this chapter. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I only own the feels in this work, not the characters. I make no mula off this work.

It was only occasionally that the black water parted, and Raymond could make out tiny things.

At first it was the sudden cold that hit his body, and moved up and down his skin. It was slick and wet, and he could hear an unknown man’s voice grumble,  
“This is the most blood I've ever had to wash off a dude. I can’t believe I got stuck with Post Op baths.”

The cold wetness hit his face, and he felt it dribble off his chin. He instinctively went to wipe at the tickling sensation but found he couldn’t move his arm.

He started to panic. Where was he, how did he get there, why couldn’t he open his eyes or attempt to talk, and who was touching him? Was he in danger? Why did his mind feel so fuzzy, like radio static? The questions came all at once, overwhelming him. 

He didn’t have enough time to try and pry his eyes open before the black water he had finally emerged from, sucked him back down. 

\------------------------------------------------

The next time the water parted he felt someone gripping his hand and stroking it gently. It was feminine voice, he recognized it. But he couldn’t place who it belonged to.

She spoke softly and touched his forehead, he wanted to cringe away from the woman, he didn’t know who it was. He wasn’t able to open his eyes and identify who it was. And his mind was so foggy he couldn’t even tell you who he was at the moment.

“Hey sweetheart. They said you might be able to hear me so I thought I would just let you know that I love you. And I miss you.” The voice tapered off and quit talking all together. The words were spoken painfully. But whoever the voice belonged to wouldn’t stop touching him. 

He felt like he was stuck in a haze, he couldn’t figure out what was happening to him. Where had he felt like this before?

It was a stronger experience of something he had done before, a drug trip he had taken. Does he do drugs? Is that what he was on now? Some kind of drug? It had to have been, this feeling of haze, fog in his brain, it was familiar. He didn’t know how he could tell, but he just did. An experience ingrained into the very fiber of his being. Something he could never forget. Even now as he had forgotten everything else. 

He had taken something and been this confused before, blissfully unaware. But now more than anything he wanted to be aware. Someone was touching him, and he kept returning to that dark room, like a waiting room in his own mind.

But what was he waiting for?  
He didn’t want to go back in there. It was dark in there, and he wasn’t able to hear or feel anything that was going on outside of the room, like he was drowning. But he could breathe just fine. Due to something forcing air into him, accompanied by a strange blockage in his throat.

Whatever the drug was that had made him feel this way previously, it started with an O. He knew that. Optimum? Maybe that was it- 

He didn’t have time to finish his thought before he was pushed back down further inside his mind.

\------------------------------------------------

When he comes into some sort of quiet consciousness yet again, the buzz inside his head had lessened a little.

His thoughts were clearer. But he felt something else replacing the diminished static in his head, pain. It wasn’t horrible but it was definitely there. Across his abdomen. It hurt to feel his chest rise and fall with each whoosh of air being shoved down his throat.

With a clearer mind than before, he heard many people all at once. He couldn’t differentiate between who was talking, but he did hear a low rumbling laughter next to him. As he focused further he could feel big hands, bigger than the unknown womans from before, clutching his own. He heard the same low rough voice speak now, becoming clearer. Telling a story for everyone else's enjoyment. The room felt light in contrast to the darkness surrounding his unopened eyes. The man clearly knew him well. 

“Raymond got so drunk he fell off the bow of the boat, and he flailed around for a bit before realizing he could touch the bottom of the pond.” The voice had a strange accent, thick, and African.

African.

Dembe.

He suddenly remembered his friend, sure now that it was him. He was sure now that he wasn’t in danger.

Raymond. That was his name. Raymond Reddington.

Before hearing it spoken aloud, he hadn’t even thought about his name, or what it might be. It hadn’t crossed his mind in the least. 

He was Raymond Red Reddington. A criminal working with the FBI. That truth came easily, one fact triggering another in his confused mind. His mind desperately trying to connect the dots.

He tried to move, to see his friend, the only thing now tethering him to reality.

He tried to open his eyes as the people went on laughing, about whatever it was Dembe had said. Red had already forgotten it. He tried to move his hand, and couldn’t tell if he was successful.

He heard a quiet gasp as a new man spoke, not Dembe, the voice was too high a pitch.

“Guy’s, wait, did you guys see that, his finger-” The room fell silent and then became more a- buzz than before. But Red felt himself starting to dwindle, he was being dragged back down under, trapped in his own body. He couldn't make out full sentences anymore, the strange drugs taking back control of his system.

“Oh my- Call her- She will be so- ‘Agent Milhoan, It’s Aram- He twitched his- Samar is here- Donald will bring you- Tell Cooper before you-’”

There was so much information in those snippets but he was too tired, overcome with exhaustion and partially wanting to disappear again, to dull the new found pain he was in.

He felt himself starting to slip again, but this time, it wasn’t into the black as he expected.

\------------------------------------------------

As he suddenly turned his head around, blinking his eyes open, he saw snow coating the ground. A long icy driveway spread in front of him, tall oak trees on either side of the small dirt road. He felt his heart stop. He was at his home. He was also standing upright, and he could see. He wasn’t suddenly sure why that surprised him, it was a completely normal thing to be able to stand and see-

His vision panned over to see the front porch of the last building he ever could truly call home. A small two level house, with white paneling, and a black shingled roof. A small wooden sled with red rails leaned against the white porch, and a little snowman with gravel eyes and stick hands stood off to the side of the icy cement sidewalk. The front bay window was open, and a Christmas tree shone brightly in the window, decorated with personal ornaments his wife had picked out. 

Danny. 

A faraway voice told him to turn around and leave, to wake up. But he was already awake, and what reason did he have to leave here? Where his wife and daughter he had missed for so long, were just inside-

What was real and what was fake began to blur, and he could no longer tell what year it was. Why was he so confused? How old was he? He was panicked at how little he knew, but his panic softened at the thought of seeing his wife, of holding her after being gone for so long, four months at that training camp was too long. 

Especially after starting his team here to sift through Russian information with the soul purpose of being closer to home. But the Navy training was mandatory every other year. That didn’t matter now though.

He was home finally. He felt a chill run down his spine, bringing him back to himself. 

He looked down at himself, he was cold, his feet numb as he stood in the snow. His instincts told him to turn, to run the opposite direction. He had a horrible feeling, anxiety gripping his heart and not moving to let go.

But why?

He was home, for Christmas. He had finished his training, sailed back to America from the stationed ship that served as camp outside Barcelona. He would return to lead his counterintelligence team, and not have to go abroad for some time. He should be relieved, not having to jump through hoops to stay home with Daniella and Adeline any longer. 

Why did he feel so, scared?

More questions came to him, and he began to doubt his sanity. How had he gotten here? He didn’t remember leaving his car, but he had a vague memory of looking at it, before turning and walking away. The memory was fuzzy as if it had been diminished by time.

But how could that be? He had only left his car a few minutes ago, one of his daughters presents clutched in his arms, a ballet kit, complete with a little purple tutu and new ballet slippers. He had decided to bring this gift along with a pair of earrings for Daniella, the only two presents he could carry as he trudged through the knee deep snow bank. 

But as he looked down again at himself, he had no such gifts in his arms.

Why did he leave his car in the first place? That was an idiotic thing to do in this weather. A voice spoke in his head, his voice. He didn’t remember speaking the words, but they rang true in his heart. 

“I ran out of gas-”

That's right. It came back to him now. His own stupidity. He had forgotten to fill up the little car waiting for him in the parking lot of the Naval base before leaving, after docking in America.

He was so eager to get home, Danny mentioned having news for him, and he couldn’t help getting his hopes up. They had been trying so hard to give Addy a brother or a sister, that would be the perfect Christmas gift- 

An immediate anguish washed over him, but he still couldn’t understand why he felt that way. He should be excited-

Somehow forgetting all of his questions, unable to wait any longer at the thought of good news, he walked up to the door and opened it. His senses were instantly assaulted with the thick, iron tinged air.

A flash of something, an old memory perhaps, came to him. When he had smelt this same metallic rich scent as he rocked back and forth, his daughter stiff in his arms, her blood staining his civilian clothes. His wife, looking to be just barely showing a baby bump, laying right next to Addy on her little purple accent rug.

His reasons for life, dead. His house ransacked, all his classified files taken to later be used in turn to force him into running for the rest of his life. Used to kill an entire fleet of innocent men and women aboard the USS Gideon, and then frame him for it. His entire life, gone. He could still remember the metallic scent filling his nose, as he buried his face into Danny’s neck, begging her to come back him because he couldn’t live without her-

Alarm filled him, every fiber in his body becoming saturated with crippling fear. He felt as tears came in sync with the horrible memory of that night. He didn’t know how he knew what awaited him upstairs, but he was sure he had been here before. The memories were too painful to be fake, too vivid to be imagined.

He was frozen, his eyes wide and his breath shallow, absolute terror of remembering keeping his feet planted. He looked up from his feet, being brought out of his thoughts by the beeping of the oven timer.

He didn’t wait any longer.

Before he was aware of it, his feet were shooting out from under him, his heavy military boots smacking the tile loudly.

His memory took over, his subconscious bracing him for what surely awaited him in his daughter's room. 

He ran through the hall, not bothering to shut off the oyster stew boiling over on the stove as he had in his previous time being here. 

“DANIELLA! ADELINE!” He shrieked as he turned the corner and ran up the stairs, knowing all too well where their bodies lay. Their blood painting his 7 year old's princess pink walls-

He burst into Addy’s ballerina themed room, her purple rug perfectly in place, and no blood in sight. He stood, dumbfounded.

“Danny? Addy?” He croaked, quieter this time. But, he had been so sure, he HAD been here before. He knew he had. 

But if they weren’t here, where were they? He had to find them, to protect them, to stop everything from spiralling out of control-

He turned to investigate the rest of the house, checking all over the second floor. Bracing himself to walk in on his dead daughter and wife.

His files were perfectly in place. No sign of anything amiss in his office.

But he couldn’t find Addy or Danny anywhere. 

He rushed to his and Danny's room last, standing in the doorway, blood pooling on the corner of the floor next to the farthest bedpost. No bodies were visible.

The silence screamed at him, and panic bloomed in him once again, he was too late-

He ran and fell to his knees, praying they were still okay. He expected to see them lying together, clutching to each like he saw before, but he was only met with one body.  
Her body was turned on her side, her face not visible. 

“Danny?” He breathed, his hands ghosting over her, waiting to see her chest move. But instead he noticed something strange. His beautiful auburn wife, had coffee colored hair.

“Danny?” His voice broke, his hands gently cupping her head to turn her, to see her face, to check her pulse. And as he turned her head gently, holding one hand to the gunshot wound in her chest, he saw ice blue eyes staring lifelessly through him, instead of the golden tinted hazel ones he fell so deeply in love with.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, who was this woman, and why was she-

“Lizzie?” 

The familiar name left his lips before he recognized the woman laying dead before him. The room spun around him and morphed as he began cradling her.

This was all wrong.

More memories flooded him, but of a different time. Lizzie laying her head down on his lap as he read late at night, the only comfort he had, found in her. Just one out of countless love flushed memories. 

He felt like his brain might just melt, his thoughts yanked back and forth, as his brain tried to catch up with all the new information presented to him.

But it wasn’t new.

What else had he forgotten? He was startled at the fact that he had forgotten his Lizzie, and ironically had already forgotten who it was he was originally searching for. His brain was not able to process everything at once as the nightmare progressed. 

“Elizabeth? Lizzie? Lizzie no, no, no, no, hold on sweetheart hold on-”

He looked up, to see himself in an unfamiliar apartment, her blood spilling all over the floor. He was so scared and confused at his failing mind, how long had it been since he had felt this much intense fear?

He shifted her to lay her head onto his lap, and just held her, rocking back and forth, tears spilling all over her lifeless body.

He looked up from her stiff body and screamed,   
“HELP! HELP! SOMEONE-” He was cut off by a cold hand lightly touching his face, blood smearing on his cheek.

“Raymond.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a gasp really, and it was filled with suffering. 

“Lizzie!” He jumped and looked down at her, his mouth agape in shock.

She was still alive.

But she had seemed so gone before-

“Hey baby hold on okay? I’m gonna-” He was cut off by her voice again, but louder, no longer weak. Her face went straight, her eyes that were previously filled with pain, now filled with a sudden disgust and revolution.

“You’re a monster.”

She spat the words out, laced with venom and hatred. He was dumbfounded, yet again unnerved at her ability to constantly surprise him like no one else ever could.

But what did she mean? What had he done now? What had he done to push her even further out of his reach-

He felt a sudden heat, searing his back. He yelped as the excruciating pain grew. He felt as various now detached chunks his skin sloughed off. He could smell it, the sickening scent of his own flesh burning. His scars long healed, were now alive with fire, the feeling of molten hot liquid dripping down his skin yet again. 

He looked down in horror as the fire around him began to lick at the form in his arms, consuming her as well. He pulled her closer to him, a foolish attempt to protect her. When would this nightmare end? 

But his hand just swiped through her helplessly, as if she were made of nothing.

As he watched her disappear from his lap, he himself began to disintegrate into the sweltering blackness, complete and utter terror coiling inside him.


	9. loss:chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some resolution for big brother Ressler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lighter chapter after the last one, (I'm still scared it was too much and no one commented so ahh), and it brings some resolution to Liz and Ressler after the abrupt way the team learned of Elizabeth and Raymond's relationship. Next week is the last chapter! Ah! I will not lie I am excited to be able to finish this chapter and move onto wider pastures. I can't believe my first series is almost done! I love you all and thank you so much for all the support! Leave me lot's of comments! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the blacklist or the characters. (I just improve them. Shots fired.) I make no money off my stories. 
> 
> As this series draws to a close, here is a shameless self promo. I have one other series in progress, Stained Red, a Cape May AU with some triggers. Make sure you cannot be harmed in anyway by reading this story by reading the trigger warning I have in the summary, tags, and first chapter notes. It is rated M not for any smut or sexual content but purely for triggers such as drug use and attempted suicide. It is a heavy book.
> 
> I also have 2 other one shots, and I am working on a prompt fic right now for Red and Ressler getting into a fight. So make sure to check those out as well. Now without further ado...

The second Liz got the call from Aram she ran up from her office, bursting into Coopers’.   
He flinched from his desk, surprised by her sudden charge into his space.

“Agent Milhoan, what in the-” He was cut off by her voice, unable to wait to explain.

“Sir, Aram just called, he is at the hospital with Dembe and Samar, Sir, Reddington moved and the doctors are getting more brain activity from him. Aram sent Ressler to come pick us up. They said he might be waking up.” Liz was extremely flustered, and the delirium flowering inside her stomach certainly wasn’t helping her keep herself together. Cooper’s eyebrows raised and he gave a small smile.

“Alright then. I’ll be down in a minute. I assume Agent Ressler is close by.”  
“Yes sir. He said he will be roughly 15.”   
“Ok then Milhoan.” He stood, dismissing her as she ran back down to her office.

She had been going over paperwork, needing something to distract her from everything going on.

It had been two weeks since she had seen his eyes, two weeks without hearing his sarcasm and unruly sass. She missed him so much it hurt.

Ached.

She dreamed of him, of him coming back to her. But after two weeks it began to feel like, maybe he wouldn’t.

She also had nightmares, of putting him in the ground. Of watching as his heart monitor, the only sign she had that he could still come back to her, flatline. Of never hearing him speak her name in his rich, deep, voice again.

It terrified her.

The doctors had started to wean him off of the medication that kept him under about three days ago. His brain was healed enough that no longer needed to be kept unconscious. She was ecstatic that he was that much closer to coming back to her, but it didn’t stop the anxiety and nightmares. 

It was only two days ago when she had a panic attack, after a particularly terrible nightmare.

She woke up screaming in his room, the heart monitor giving no solace in the background, convinced she was still covered in his blood.

The doctor came and gave her some orange juice before she passed out. Dembe sat holding her as she tried desperately to slow her breathing but to no avail. She couldn’t stop her panic, her mind spiralling from one worst case scenario to the next. The doctor eventually gave her a rather potent sleeping pill, and she was out in less than 30 minutes, Dembe still holding her together. 

She walked to her desk and stuffed manila folders full of random paperwork, not honestly caring where the various legal documents ended up.

She opened her desk drawer, and reached her hand into the metal cabinet. It hand came back up, holding a small paper picture.

Dembe really should have been a photographer, at the very least as a hobby. It was taken without either of them knowing, capturing a perfectly blissful moment.

Red had challenged Lizzie to a game of mini-golf, both absolutely convinced they would win. Lots of competitive trash talking had ensued. But in fact it was Dembe that had won, and then rubbed it both of their faces quite gleefully.

The moment had occurred right as Liz had swung her putter, after Red had promptly snuck up behind her, making her jump as he grabbed her sensitive spot. Surprising her and ruining her shot. He knew she was ticklish around her hips.

He clamped down on her waist and spun her around almost whacking a little boy with her putter. Her feet flew through the air, his strong hands keeping her in his orbit. His gravitational pull keeping her secured to him.

He sat her down after doing a full 180, unknowingly facing Dembe and his camera, both unable to breath from laughing, his mouth close to her ear. It looked so natural, so happy.

His toothy grin as he whispered in her ear, his eyes glowing in nothing short of wonder and pure joy as he stared at her.

In turn, her head was bowed, and her eyes were clamped shut, tears rolling down her face from giggling so hard.

“I’ve never seen Reddington smile like that before. You either.” The mumble came from behind her, she jumped, surprised to find Ressler peaking over her shoulder. He had a genuine expression on his face, subtly unnerved by seeing Red without the mask. She only gave a nod. Donald's eyebrows furrowed, carefully contemplating his next words.

“Do you love him?” He paused looking up at her, gauging her expression. She knew how shocked and betrayed Ress had felt when he had learned of their relationship, especially how he found out.

She didn’t blame him. Red was basically one of Donald's worst enemies. And Liz was a good friend. Someone he cared about deeply. She locked her eyes with his, trying to convey the truth in her next statement.

“Yes.” It was a whisper barely falling past her lips. Ress looked down, nodding slightly.

“How long have you two-” He trailed off, still calm. She didn’t hesitate in answering.  
“Three months. And before you ask, we aren’t married, Ress.” He hid it well, but he was relieved at the last statement. He spoke with a dangerous calm, the eye of the hurricane. He was trying to reason with her now, careful to avoid a judgemental tone, just trying to stick to the facts. 

Though what he considered to be facts were more of a judgemental opinion.

“Liz, he will hurt you. He already did when he was shot. He lives a dangerous life, and he is not deserving of you. He is a monster. He kills people on a regular basis. Not exactly partner material. Why would you choose a fixer upper? He is constantly going to be threatened with leaving you, he is always just one wrong step away from being killed or caught. And further so are you, as we just saw. Just by being seen on something as simple as a date you become a target. He will constantly put you in danger. Emotionally and Physically. What if he isn’t there to protect you next time Milhoan?” He finally paused to take a breath while Liz thought of what to say. She made sure to try and remain as level headed as he was whilst she retorted, hoping he would have enough respect for her to know when to stop. However being level headed was too hard to accomplish when she was so emotionally drained. She just needed to go and be by Red’s side. 

“He isn’t a monster. He is kind, loving, devoted. And I choose him because I love him. Because we couldn’t avoid how we felt about each other. He is always in danger, but he has been for 30 years straight. He knows how to survive better than anyone else. He has all the resources in the world to protect the both of us. Most people are scared to cross him and hurt me. The woman that took him was deranged. Everyone else with a working mind knows better than to hurt someone he cares about. I love him, and I would take a bullet for him without a thought. So now that you're done interrogating me, take me to Raymond. I don’t need to defend myself or him to you.” Her voice broke as she spoke, a crack in her steely armor. She brushed past his gaping, wide eyed face, rushing to the elevator. She would not cry. She shoved the picture into her pocket, a reminder of what was to come. 

“Liz.” She was stopped by his voice once again. She turned to face him from across the room. His jaw was set, his eyes rather cold. He gulped.

“Alright.” That was all that needed to be said as he jogged after her, understanding that now was not the time to have this argument. She gave him a grateful yet tired smile. She responded when he was next to her, Cooper following down the metal yellow stairs out of hearing range. She still whispered, her voice dropping low as she grabbed his hand. Desperate he understand how grateful she was to him for picking his battles. 

“Thank you Ress. I-I just can’t right now. Thank you for supporting me even if you don't agree. You’re like a brother to me.” Her voice broke as she spoke. He smiled and pulled her into a hug.

“If I’m the brother, then that just gives me all the more reason to shoot him if he does anything to you. Not that I needed permission in the first place, but it does make me feel slightly better to have a corresponding role.” They both laughed as Cooper caught up with them.

“Please don’t kill my boyfriend Ress.” Donald didn’t reply as he gave a rather mysterious, dark, smirk and continued ominously to the elevator.

She felt a hand at the small of her back steering her to the elevator as Cooper quipped with a raised eyebrow, 

“I won’t ask. But let's go see Reddington.”


	10. loss:chapter ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. Not to be dramatic but, it's the end my friends. I can't believe that I actually finished a book. Like holy shirts how did I do that? Anyway, thank you all so much for all your support and love, please keep leaving comments and kudos. This chapter is heckin long because I couldn't find a reasonable place to cut it off, and 10 is just such a nice number of chapters for your first book isn't it? If you want some more stories to read about our dear Lizzington, feel free to check out my other works. I am going to try to keep being as regular as I was with this fic with 'Stained Red' by posting every week. No promises though, as it is proving to be a tricky book to write. I think I'm finally starting to break past the wall I have been stuck behind for the past two weeks however, so here's to hoping. (I also have a one shot brewing from my friend moneypowxrglory over on tumblr) Now without further ado...
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not make any profit off of my stories. I also do not own The Blacklist or its characters, though I do admit to owning no social skills whatsoever. Ciao guys. It's been a blast with this one.

“The drugs are starting to leave his system, we are keeping him on enough medication that the pain is manageable, but it will still be unpleasant for him. His brain activity shows he is starting to respond to outside stimuli, coming in and out of a semi-conscious state. Due to this he may make tiny noises, flinch, or his heart monitor may spike. This is all perfectly normal. The medication he is on is very heavy, and it does cause occasional hallucinations while he is in this state. When he wakes, we will extubate him, as long as he keeps doing this well. We will access the damage and go from there. But for now, all we can do is wait.”

That was what the doctor had told her and Dembe yesterday.

After Ressler had picked Cooper and herself up at the Post Office she didn’t know what to expect. She knew better than to hope that he was awake, that he would be there to greet her when they finally made it to his hospital room. But she couldn’t help but fantasize that she would be greeted by his eyes when she entered the room, that he would no longer be hooked to the wall with various wires and tubes.

Of course reality was much different.

She practically ran to see him, Donald and Cooper lagging behind. Samar, Dembe, Aram, and Dr. Lee were standing over his bedside, talking incessantly.

Aram was the first to spot her entrance, Cooper and Donald still taking their sweet time down the hall.

The doctor then began to explain things to her as she tried to hide her disappointment at seeing no obvious change to his condition from when she had left him that morning.

So now she sat.

Waiting. Just like Dr. Lee had said.

It was dark outside his window, the artificial lighting casting an odd shadow over his sleeping face. The bedside clock read 7:09pm.

He had been relatively quiet today, only grunting once or twice. His right hand, however, had almost never ceased to be alive with movement. His fingers tapped the bed, his wrist periodically twitched.

He was so close, but so far away.

She clutched it nonetheless, her life line to him. Even as he weakly attempted to strangle her fingers. 

Her phone rang and she grabbed it off the bedside table, still keeping her eyes trained on Red. She answered quietly as if she might disturb Raymond’s slumber. 

“Hey Aram, are you guys already heading over there?” The other voice on the phone was loud, speaking over the car radio.

“Yep we are just starting to head towards your apartment right now. We have the takeout, thanks for having us over. It’s good for you to have some time away you know? Even if it doesn’t feel right it’s probably good for you. Did you mention what Dembe was doing?”

“I’m leaving the hospital right now. Dembe is with Isabella and Ella tonight. Does Samar still have a spare key? I think you guys are going to beat me there.” There were some whispers and Liz could hear Samar in the background of the car as Aram repeated the question.

Liz stood while she waited for an answer, gathering the Merchant of Venice book into her bag from when she had read to him earlier. Just like she always did.

His hand stopped moving but she did notice a small hitch in the heart monitor as she moved her hand away from his. She leaned over and cupped his cheek in her palm, before pressing a kiss to his eyelid. The heart monitor slightly fluctuated and she gave a small smile. 

She absentmindedly noticed his left index and finger began to tremble as she hoisted her bag up and over her shoulder. 

The phone came alive with noise again and she paused in the middle of the room, her back to Red. She casually dug out her car keys, cringing at how loud Aram was over the speaker. You would think a Tech guy would know not to overload a phone speaker with so much noise unless you want it to be staticky and hard to decipher. 

“So Samar does still have a key, so we are good there. We will be there in about half an hour so we will-” Aram’s voice faded out of focus as Liz heard a small, gruff, groan behind her.

She casually cast a look over shoulder, expecting to see a sleeping Red.

She was wrong.

She did a double a take before pivoting on the slick hospital tile.

Her breath hitched and the phone fell to the floor. Her mouth dropped open as she saw an extremely drugged Red trying to sit up only to fall back to the white sheets with a painful groan vibrating past his plastic breached lips.

His eyelids were heavy and uneven, one opened slightly more than the other. He was disheveled, and looked down in panic seeing his tube pricked arms, his entire body trembling in exertion.

He tried to sit up again, a scared look painted over his beautiful moss green eyes, that were as vibrant as ever.

It had been so long-

Tears were falling down her cheeks as she ran to him, gently pushing him back down. He looked up at her, trying to focus, and for a moment she was scared he wouldn’t remember her. That was until his eyes sparked with recognition, and he sighed deeply, settling slightly back down.

She was still gaping, some strange emotion pawing at chest, warming her stomach. It was relief, shock, love, and desperation. Mixing together in her, spilling over as rapidly as her tears.

She didn’t realize she was trembling until she reached out and cupped his cheek, running her thumb back and forth over the muscle under his eye.

“R-red?” Her voice sounded just as unsteady as she felt. He replied by leaning into her touch, eyes fluttering closed, starved for affection. 

“Oh- My Red, I-” Her voice broke and her tears blurred her vision, still gasping for air.

She spun around and ran out to the hall, almost knocking a nurse over.   
“Raymond- He’s awake. He’s trying to get up-” She pointed back to his room, as the nurse gave a pleased smile.

“Ok Ms. Milhoan just wait. I will be right back with Dr. Lee.” The nurse scurried off leaving Liz standing in the hallway, absolutely bursting.

She turned back and saw that Red was trying to get up again, eye’s trained on her. She ran back to his side and pinned his shoulder back to the mattress.

“Red baby hold on ok? I need you to stay down ok? I’m right here. You're ok, we’re safe. Red you’re safe-” Words came easier now, relief filling the space between them.

His droopy eyes drifted all around the room as she continued to caress his cheek. His eyes suddenly transfixed on the locket draped around her neck, absolutely fascinated with it. His shaky arm reached out to touch it before she grabbed his hand gently, with a small laugh at how ridiculously distracted drugged Red was. She ran her thumb along his knuckles, not letting go of the hand she captured. She gave the back of it small kisses, just so relieved he was here with her.

His half-lidded gaze lethargically traveled from her necklace to their intertwined hands. His grip was so weak, she had to hold his hand to hers, making sure they didn’t fall away from one another. His brows furrowed as he stared at her hands. Transfixed in nothing short of awe once again.

She heard the doctor start behind her.

“Mr. Reddington! Hello I am Doctor Lee. Mr. Reddington you are in the hospital right now. You are on intubation to help you breath for the moment. We are going to take you to do some tests to make sure that everything is as it should be as of right now. You are heavily sedated right now on morphine but I must ask you to try not to sleep while we quickly do some tests. The morphine will more than likely wear off rather quickly, and you will be clear of mind within the hour. I understand you are probably confused right now, which is completely natural. You are safe here, and you have Ms. Milhoan here with you. If you feel a little funny, there is nothing to be worried about. You will be weak for a while to come, so I must also ask you to try not to do anything too strenuous. Just lay back and rest. We will take care of everything else. First things first though Mr. Reddington we are going to take some blood from your I.V there. After that we are going to listen to your breathing and your heart. If your breathing sounds good we will be able to take that nasty plastic out of your mouth. Any questions? Ms. Milhoan?”

She looked up from Red to shake her head.

It was all she could manage.

She watched as the doctor bent over and picked her phone up off of the floor. She had honestly forgotten it was there. He gently handed it over to Liz.

“Here you are Ms. Milhoan. The nurse will be in to get some blood in just a second.” He exited without another word. Liz looked down at her phone to see six missed notifications for both Samar and Aram.

The phone buzzed again in her hand before she had a chance to look at the texts. Liz quickly answered.

Samar talked first, beating Liz to the punch.

“Oh Liz good. Aram was starting to get worried, we’re here in your kitchen. We just-”

Liz cut Samar off not being able to contain her excitement.  
“He’s up Samar, He’s awake and they are going to do tests and-” This time it was Samar’s turn to cut her off mid sentence, confusion evident in her voice.

“Wait, Reddington is awake? Oh Liz, that's so great! Hold on, me and Aram are going to come, we just need to tell Cooper and Ress.” Liz could hear Aram’s excited voice in the background, like a kid on Christmas morning asking Samar to confirm what he thought he had just heard. 

“Ok, I’m going to call Dembe. I’ll see you guys soon.”  
“Okay, Liz we will be there soon.”

The call ended and Liz immediately went to dial Dembe looking back up to Red.

He had a quizzical expression on his face as he stretched his neck to examine the device in her hands.

“Hold on Red we are going to call Dembe. He is going to be so happy to see you, he missed you so much. I did too.” Unable to hold back her bubbly affection she leaned over to give a kiss to his brow.

A small, slightly delayed, but all the same delighted hum came from him.

She locked eyes with him, needing to convey the truth in her words.  
“I love you Red.” His hand came up slowly, coming to rest over hers, holding the hand that was on his cheek in place. Before leaning into her palm. A goofy smile tugging at the corner of his parted lips. 

She dialed Dembe and briefly explained everything to him, not even attempting to hide the joy evident in her tone. Dembe responded simply, hanging up right after he finished speaking. 

“I will be right there.”

The nurse swiftly came in, taking some blood out of Red’s I.V. 

Dr. Lee came in about 45 minutes later, a small caddie of sorts in his hand containing all the instruments he would need for a checkup.

Liz stepped aside as the doctor went about his examination. Red kept his eyes fixed on her, not really seeming to care about being poked and prodded by Dr. Lee.

His eyes examined her with rigor moving methodically across her face, committing her to memory. He had so much relief plain across his features, but at the same time he seemed scared, like at any time she might disappear.

She longed to hold him in her arms, anxious to feel his heart beat under her palm. To make sure it all wasn't just a dream. Desperate to be in his arms again. She needed to feel him. 

“Alright Mr. Reddington. Your breathing sounds excellent so we are going to go ahead and extubate you. Your voice will be very hoarse but the more you try to talk the better it will get. So far everything seems to be well. The damage you have endured seems to be only temporary as long as you continue to heal correctly. You will be in the hospital for a while to come. Your muscles are weak, and you will need to undergo physical therapy to regain all the muscle mass you have lost. I’m going to go ahead and take out your intubation now, then I will leave you and Ms. Mihoan to fill you in on what you have missed. If you have any questions or need anything press this button here.”

The doctor pointed to a red button next to the bed and gave a kind smile.

“Alright, relax your jaw for me Mr. Reddington.” The doctor removed the tube and shut off the machine, leaving only the heart monitor to fill the silent room.

The doctor then strung a small cannula over Red’s ears and placed it under his nose before standing back to check his work.

Red looked down, slightly twitching his nose as Liz gripped his hand tighter. 

“How does that feel?” The doctors brow furrowed as he watched Red clear his throat quietly. His voice was hoarse and miniscule, only just audible over the heart monitor and Liz’s breathing.

“Like I’ve been asleep for a year.” He still seemed kind of loopy and dazed, but he seemed to be able to remember things clearly. He could keep his mind clear enough to answer the question with his usual sarcasm. Liz let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

The doctor gave a small chuckle, all tension leaving the room. 

“I’ll leave you two to it.” 

Red’s head lolled over to where Liz was sitting. He spoke even softer than before, and with notably more difficulty.

“Lizzie.”

Such a simple statement, but it sent Liz into a spiral, letting out all the pain she had been holding for the past two weeks and replacing it with unfiltered joy.

She started to cry, even as she was aware of how ridiculous she was being. Her tears fell down around the upturned corners of her mouth, as she bit her lip trying to keep the choking sob out of her voice. 

She stood from her spot and came to him, needing to see that he was real, to know that it wasn’t all a dream.

As she approached he shakily raised his arms, encircling her waist and gently pulling her down to him. She crawled up in the tiny bed next to him, barely fitting.

He shifted so he could hold her to his chest. She never had tried to fit more than one person in a hospital bed before, and it was certainly not the most comfortable. Plastic railing blocking her from stretching out, wires and I.V’s making it hard to not get tangled, and things she could accidently knock down everywhere.

But it didn’t matter.

His arms draped around her as she buried into his chest, gasping in his scent. She moved her hands all around his body, rubbing them gently over every piece of him she could. They both were trembling. 

His hands ran in soothing circles over her back as he kissed everywhere he possibly could. Her hair, her face, the crown of her head, covering her in his own relief at seeing her again, in relief that his horrible nightmares were only dreams. She was here, solid, safe, in his arms. He could make out who was touching him now, and no longer wished to shirk away from her heat. He was no longer trapped, no longer stuck in nothingness. He wanted nothing more than to stay awake, here with her forever, never again returning to the inky abyss he had been chained to for so long. His muscles were weak, his head fuzzy, and with every breath he took a dull pain sprouted in his abdomen. He didn’t know how he got here or how long he had been suspended in nothingness. But his questions could wait for the moment. Right now, his fogged mind only craved her. 

Liz closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, convinced now that he was here. That it wasn’t just another dream. 

That he was real. They both relaxed after sitting in quiet peace for around ten minutes. Taking the other in slowly, gently. Tracing their way around others skin lazily. 

She nuzzled her cheek against his chest and listened to heart as it droned on. She heard his intake of breath as he tried to speak again. Felt as her body rose in tangent with his chest. She was grinning like a fool.

“How long Lizzie?” Though the question remained mainly unasked, she still understood his meaning. She waited for his fit of coughing to calm before responding quietly to him. 

“Two weeks Red.” She gulped before continuing. “You were shot three times, have five broken ribs, and you had a severe concussion with brain swelling. That’s why they had to put you under. Everyone is fine, myself included. I just had an allergic reaction to the drugs Trenton put me on.” She waited as he absorbed the information. Letting it all sink in. She could hear the gears in his fogged mind turning as he lethargically processed everything. Her mood shifted into something more serious. She continued softer, her voice muffled by his hospital gown.

“They said it was a miracle you didn’t die before you got here. Let alone that you didn’t die on the table or during the first night. I thought you were going to leave me Red. I was so scared-”  
Her voice trailed off and she reburied herself into his chest, trying to make herself as small as possible, just wanting to be completely absorbed in his arms. 

“Look at me Lizzie.” He spoke into her hair, sounding just as shaken as she felt.

Sounding just as scared as she has been since the moment she knew he was missing, since the moment she saw him tied up in that warehouse.

This was the first time she had held him for three weeks. Almost an entire month had passed since she had felt his back, traced her fingers across the upraised skin found there.

The week he was missing, and the two weeks he was asleep.

She looked up to his face, finding his eyes staring at her just as intensely as the first time she had laid eyes on him. Bound to a chair in that box, the darkest smile she had ever seen plastered across his face. She had tried not to think about how attractive that was to her, back then. When she was still married to a liar. The smile he donned now was softer. 

But she now found herself comparing the two men.

Because really they were two different men. Two drastically different sides to the same coin.

There was the world's Raymond ‘Red’ Reddington, charming, intelligent, dangerous, ruthless, dark, sociopathic, and evil. A terrorist. A killer. That Reddington was a mask, a facade, a barrier. 

Then there was her Raymond.

Her Red.

Flirty, sweet, protective, tormented, cuddly, witty, and sassy. Filled with passion. Beautifully damaged. Her Red was trying his best to open up, to let her in. She was more proud then she could say that he had let her love him. She was proud to be able to say that she knew the real Raymond Reddington, that she loved him. 

The Red snuggling with her right now wasn't commanding a room or cheating someone at their own game, stealing a famous painting or overthrowing some country. This was the real, vulnerable Red. 

She could tell he was hurting to hear how much she had suffered, how close he had truly come to leaving her. He was real. He was human. Grappling with his time in unfiltered darkness, trying to get some kind of sense of the time he missed.

Not a mythic figure to be feared. Not the man Donald was worried about tainting her. No one any of the members of the Post Office were acquainted with. No one knew him like she did.

If they did, they wouldn’t be worried. 

He gently cupped her face, pulling her up from his chest. He moved towards her, closing the distance. She met him halfway, and melted into his mouth. Their lips moved in conjunction, short but passionate. His devotion, and apology poured into her, and she could feel the truth in his unspoken words. Red was a man of action, not words. After only a few seconds, far shorter than he normally could last kissing her, he pulled back winded. Needing to collect more oxygen in his body. He was slightly wheezing when he spoke,

“I’m so sorry Lizzie. I love you.” He took her hand and kissed her wrist, right over her scar. Gently, reverently. His eye’s drooped, and she could tell just how much energy had been zapped from him just by the simple act of waking up. He had a long way to go. But he would be just fine, running around intimidating just about everyone he could, in no time. 

She switched him around, holding him to her chest. 

“I love you too Red.” She leaned over his shoulder, pecking his stubbled cheek. She could feel him relaxing more in her arms, his breathing starting to slow.  
She began absent mindedly running her hand over his short cropped hair, the tiny hairs of his scalp nipping at her palm.   
“You know, I’m just not sure that a hospital gown suits you, Reddington.” He gave a short bark of laughter, his chest quaking beneath her arms. He shot back quickly,  
“I don’t suppose they have a fedora on hand do they? Or perhaps a waistcoat, that could really spruce up this hospital gown, I’m telling you Lizzie.”

They both laughed quietly and Liz watched as Red’s eyes drifted closed again.

She quietly shushed him before he could speak again, and just held him close to her. She hadn’t lost him. He had come back to her. And now he would be ok. But for now, he needed to rest. Which was fine with her. She was happily content just to watch as his features grew lax, and watch in adoration as he fell asleep in her arms. She placed small kisses on the crown of his head, still overflowing with joy.

The only thing on her mind now were the better days ahead. The day’s ahead with him.


End file.
